Lapse - A Marvel Universe fanfiction
by flutterbye1888
Summary: Mallory lives in the Marvel Universe. She didn't choose this any more than we choose ours, although she has a little more control over it than anyone here has over ours. Warnings will be posted at the beginning of chapters if I think they're necessary.
1. Humble Beginnings

It would be a bit cliché, and mostly untrue, to start this out saying I was an ordinary person before adventure struck. As far as I know, there are no ordinary people. Or maybe there's just one, just one ordinary person out there. That one completely socially ignorable person that we all have striven to be. And no, it was never me. My hair's too short, my body too chubby, my voice too loud. I laugh too much and my teeth are yellow. I look younger than my age and I'm a mutant.

OK, that was rude. I flung it on you. I'm a mutant.

Telling people that is kind of how I imagine being a traitor must feel. There's a chance of disgust, of hatred. And there's a chance of acceptance. There's also a chance of ignorance and of fear. Of jealousy and of inequality. Well, maybe the last two are only for mutants, but I wouldn't know so I'm not going to make assumptions.

I may never have been ordinary, but I was content. I had three cats and a dog. I was an only child. My parents were still together. I lived in a suburb. To a lot of people, I should have no reason to be unhappy. "She has all the things I wish I had," you must be saying, "How could she possibly be any less than overjoyed?"

Or maybe that's not what you're saying, but that's not the point. The point is people think that I don't have problems just because I don't have the same problems they have. I was homeschooled in high school. My parents were afraid because they heard that the school had begun accepting mutants.

My dad kissed me on the forehead. "I'd rather you be safe here with us than go to the school I went to," he told me, "Mutants are like live wires. I'm sure they're useful when they're under control, but it's not safe to touch them."

I didn't, at the time, know about my power.

I have mixed feelings about the proceedings that led up to my label. Sometimes I believe the pros outweigh the cons, and I'm achingly, blissfully, happy. Sometimes I believe the cons outweigh the pros, and that causes me to make the kind of mistakes that lead to this sort of situation. The sort of situation where I'm being told to write down my life story before I die.

I was with a friend when I figured out something was different. We ate sushi, watched a movie, and chatted until our brains ran out our ears at a busy little late night ice cream place. Typical evening for us. Then the subject turned to mutants. With my being nurtured by the parents I was, I had an unfounded distrust of the mutant community. My friend, on the other hand, went to school with one. She was more open, albeit very little.

"I don't know," I was saying, "I'm not sure I want to trust mutants. If I stay out of their way they have no reason to bother me. That sounds like a deal, in my opinion."

She started to reply, when someone at a nearby picnic table stood and turned to us.

"You may think that's a deal, but it's not a deal we've agreed to have with you," the woman said. She was taller than my friend and I. I suddenly grew very afraid. Shockingly afraid. Too afraid to stand pf speak. Everyone nearby seemed to be in the same position as I, much to afraid to stay and even more afraid to leave. It must have been her causing the fear. She leaned down, inches from my face. "Humans are old news," she spit, "So if I were you, I'd be careful when I assume there's some kind of pact between-"

Suddenly it was like a balloon had popped. The woman froze and I couldn't feel the contagious fear anymore. I turned to my friend in disbelief. She stared at the woman, unmoving. I tested with my hands her lack of attention. She didn't even register when I touched her face.

Things stayed frozen for three days before I realized I should cultivate the power to change it back. I scooped myself a fresh ice cream and sat back in my seat. I closed my eyes and pictured the woman yelling, then sitting back down. I pictured, also, my friend and I scurrying to her car, huddled together. When I opened my eyes, the woman finished her sentence, starting out slow, but finishing full speed. "-humans and mutants. Coming to conclusions like that can get you killed."

It was, word for word, what I envisioned her saying. My friend and I scurried. "You have to be careful," she whispered, "It's not safe to have those kinds of views anymore." Then she blinked and looked at me. "Where did you get a chocolate ice cream?"

"I've had chocolate the whole time."

I have never once hated the professor for showing up at my door. I heard him knock at the side door because the front door had steps. The way my mother answered the door set me on edge, "Then come in! I suppose..."

His wheelchair barely fit through the kitchen. Then he was there in the living room with me. My mother introduced him, "Mallory, this is Professor Charles Xavier," before going to my father's office to have him join us.

I was curled on the couch with a school book and a cup of tea. I pulled my legs in tighter subconsciously. "Hi," I said.

There's no reason to feel uncomfortable, Mallory.

I thought it was my own thoughts. They often badger me this way.

But this isn't your voice, is it?

I jumped up, blanket and book falling to the floor. "What the hell are you doing in my head?" I hissed.

It's all right, Mallory. Yes, I am a mutant, but I'm not going to hurt you any more than you could see yourself hurting someone.

I hadn't yet come to terms with being a mutant, but this still hit home. I had been telling myself that they couldn't possibly all be bad, just like humans couldn't.

"Alex, this is Professor Charles Xavier," my mother told my father.

"I've come to offer an opportunity to your daughter," he told my parents, looking at me. Then he began the half true spiel about the school of the gifted. My parents seemed proud of me, and in awe of the school. I'm sure it's happened a hundred times over for Professor X.

There was no question for my parents. Their daughter was invited to an exclusive school for the last two years of high school. They were sending me.

Then there was a brief moment of reconsideration. "Are you accepting," my father quickly cleared his throat, "mutants into your school?"

The professor didn't, for a second, look surprised.

This is your decision, Mallory. What would you like me to tell them?

I thought for only a second. _Lie,_ I thought, hopefully loud and clear.

Professor X sat up straight. "My school is very exclusive, Mr. Reight. If you're suggesting that-"

"No, no, forgive me," my father interrupted, "I only want my daughter t be safe. Of course she's going."


	2. Leaving Home

I sit in my room the day before I'm supposed to be picked up by the professor. I'm still not quite sure that I believe I'm a mutant. Or, really, it was less that I don't believe, and more that I don't want to. But, I've always been one to prepare for social events.

In second grade I heard that the middle school I was supposed to go to held an annual eighth grade dance. To prepare, I taught myself how to dance all those years in advance. I got better of course, I almost had dancing skills to brag about, but of course puberty came along and made me clumsy all over again.

I was still pretty good at dancing.

The point is, I'll go to extreme measures to try and keep from looking foolish, and I know that if I can't control my... powers, I guess... it will be a social faux pas among the mutants.

I hold my breath. I clench my toes. I even take an ice cube out of my drink and put it in my shirt. I open up a window and take a deep and refreshing breath of the cool outside air.

"Mal, breakfast," I'm summoned. At the table, my parents look as nervous as I am about my imminent departure. They've made waffles, something they rarely do. Mt mother frequents health-food stores, and tries to keep us all from having sugary or wheaty snacks. But the waffles were a sacred sort of thing. The last time we had them was to celebrate my recently deceased grandmother's long life with us.

I drizzle melted chocolate on mine, looking at my worried parents.

And I wish the moment would freeze. Again, it's like a balloon pops in my chest. My parents are still. My father is lifting a bite to his mouth. Drops of syrup hang in the air underneath. I reach with a finger to catch one. It moves when I touch it, but continues to hold still in the air. I pluck the bite of waffle off dad's fork and leave it right in front. It should fall back onto the plate.

I turn to my mother. She's looking directly at me. It's kind of spooky. I pull the elastic out of her messy pony-tail. Then I concentrate. The strangest thing I remember from that first night is the time right after I unfroze the scene. The things I had imagined had come true. I wonder if I can take it to a sort of extreme. Can I change the physical presence of an item?

I imagine my parents simultaneously making the same sort of noise in their throat when the waffle falls and the hair is in her face. Then I imagine them looking at each other, looking at me, then my father clearing his throat. "Darling," he'll say, "We love you very much." Then my mother will pull a diamond ring out and put it on my hand.

The scene drags to a start. "Urg," they say, as the things I planned happened. Then I see them look at each other. "Darling, we love you very much."

There in my mother's hand is a ring box. I know for a fact they weren't planning on doing any such thing. But there the ring was. I created.

I'm proud of myself as I admire the sparkles. "Thank you," I say, more to the X gene than my parents.

The next morning a woman with caramel skin and white hair knocks at our front door. She apologizes, explaining that the professor was not able to make it.

After all of the to-be-expected identity checking, my parents decided they believed her and moved on to the goodbyes.

In the car, the woman introduced herself as Storm. I'd been thinking about a name change, but nothing so bizarre as an inanimate phenomenon.

I consider for only a few seconds what mine should be.

"Lapse," I tell her, "It's nice to meet you."

She smiles kindly at me, but she doesn't offer up any conversation.

We stop at another house in the town over. There's a girl sitting outside on the front porch of a small Victorian. She hides her hands in her pockets until she absolutely has to free one to clutch the handle of her suitcase. I can see why; they're bright green.

She sits beside me, looking out the opposite window. I can feel her stealing glances at me. I do the same to her. Her jeans have holes that aren't fashionable. Her shirt's stained by her left elbow. Her tattered canvas shoes are caked with the orange mud found everywhere in the area.

I'm wearing a pleated skirt and a pale blue button-down. My diamond ring sits proud on my finger. My shoes are leather loafers.

I can see that we're on opposite ends of the middle-class spectrum. I hold out my hand. "I'm Lapse," I say to her. She looks from my face to my hand. She takes her own slowly out of her pocket. "Um, I'm blossom," She squeaks. I grin. "Want to see what I can do?" I ask her. She nods a little, and I can suddenly see that she's much younger than I am. Maybe fourteen, or even thirteen.

I decide to test something that I'd been hoping would work. I grab her wrist and concentrate on the feeling, the sort of release. The background noises stop. The absence of feeling the car on the road is sudden. Blossom looks silently at me for a few seconds, and I fear it didn't work. Then her eyes flicker to look out the window behind me.

The storefronts of the town have stopped moving past. She looks at storm. Her hands on the wheel are still as death. I unbuckle myself and open the car door. Gravel behind the tires hangs in mid-air as though by transparent string. I take a piece and flick it into the car at blossom, who flinches. The gravel, though, hangs at the end of my finger. I leave the car and enter a nearby textiles store.

I lift the edges of some of the fabric, move a potted plant a few inches off the ground. There's a cat in the back of the store. I take it to Blossom, who's gotten out of the car and is looking at a fountain. We both laugh at how the cat's limbs lag behind it as I lift and move it. I leave it on it's back by the dumpster where it was.

We get Popsicles from a vendor (I leave two dollars in his pocket) and get back in the car.

Blossom will start laughing, Storm will stop at the same vendor we just got pops from and get one only for herself, claiming that she saw us eating ice cream just a few seconds earlier.

The car starts again, and Storm inexplicably turns down several side streets, Blossom laughing the entire time. She stops just short of the vendor, looking confused, and turns back to the street we were on.

"It has limits, then," I mumble to myself.

"That was awesome," Blossom tells me, seeming more comfortable already. She hold out one of her green hands. "My turn," she says.

I see now that her hands are covered with tiny feathers, almost like a butterfly's wings. Some of them in the center of her hand lift up and start to glow. They twist and form a stalk. The stalk wraps it's way up her arm and comes out through her brown hair above her forehead.

The vines wrap her face, crawl into her nostrils. They split into smaller and smaller strands, covering her. Her eyes are dark and glittering behind the shining curtain.

"Hit me," she says.

I raise my eyebrows. I don't think I've hit anyone in my life. Except in dodge-ball at primary school.

"I mean it, punch me."

I do. The vines grab me, holding me there against her forearm. I tug, but they twist around my arm and up, gripping. She pulls them all back into her hand with an audible snap, faster than I could see. I whistle.

"Impressive," I tell her. Her grin is bright. I can tell she's excited to have her gift appreciated.

"So, Blossom," I say, "I don't mean to pry, and you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable, but.., why wasn't there anyone there to see you off?"

Of course I was lying when I said I didn't mean to pry. I often found myself more curious than was good for me.

"Um," she mutters, "My parents found out about my power. They were fighting about whose fault it was last night. My mom kicked my dad out and got drunk. I didn't want to wake her up."

She turns away from me. Storm glances back at her. "It's not like she would care that I was leaving anyway," she says quietly.

The air in the car is stiff and thick. Blossom sniffles once.

"My parents don't know," I whisper, "They hate mutants."

She looks at me. Her nose is red like she was crying, but her face is dry.

"That sucks," she says, "My parents have never loved me, so I can't know what that kind of fear feels like. But I would think it would be worse than anything."

I lean against her. At first, she doesn't seem to know how to react. Then her shoulder relaxes under my head and she leans on me too.

The drive is long. Virginia all the way to New York. I fall asleep more than once. We stop in Northern Pennsylvania for the night.

The hotel room I have is much too empty. I wish we'd shared one. I've never had one to myself before. I find myself escaping to the indoor swimming pool around midnight. There's a man in it already, so I go to the lobby and keep an eye on the door to see him leave. When he exits I snap my fingers and time freezes.

I look at my fingers with surprise. I don't know why I snapped this time and it worked, because I'm sure I've tried that before, but it just seemed like a good idea. The man leaving the pool is frozen in a yawn and I pause for a giggle.

The room is hot and humid. There's a hot tub with a still mist above it. I touch the water. My fingertip leaves a mark in the water. I punch it, and, like putty, it molds to the shape of my fist, a hole in the surface.

I remove my clothes and dive in my underwear into the full-sized pool. The water is cool against my face. I find myself on the bottom, unable to float to the surface. I panic only briefly, then I walk along the bottom towards the shallow end. My head breaks the surface and I have to wipe away the water that's caught against my face.

As I sputter, I look back at my trail. There's a hole where I dived, and a tunnel of angular bubbles following my walk. I take a deep breath and duck under the water. As I blow into it, the water forms a mask, growing around my mouth and down my chin. I try to breathe inside the bubble, but the air quality's horrible and when if gets too small I breath in some of the water. I stand, coughing.

I unfreeze and my shapes collapse. I swim until I'm exhausted, then drip my way back to my room, where I shower and try to sleep again.

My dreams are full of mutants.

 _Hey! It's me. Glad you could join me. Any feedback is appreciated. Also, what do you want me to do next? I have ideas, of course, but I'm open to suggestion. 3_


	3. The School

I'll be sharing my room at the school with someone who's expected to arrive later today. Storm, Blossom, and I got to the school late last night, so I spend this morning unpacking. I fold my clothes neatly into my dresser and hang a few things on the left side of the closet. I test both beds and choose the right one, by the window, for my own.

I don't know exactly when my roommate is supposed to arrive, so I put my empty suitcase on my bed to claim it in case I'm not here when she arrives. I look around the neat room with satisfaction.

"Time to explore," I whisper to myself. I step quietly into the hallway and pad my way down the regal stairs. I find the kitchen and some of the classrooms. Then I see Storm stepping into a secret elevator and I smile smugly.

I snap my fingers and cross the hallway to step into the elevator in her stead. I hide in the corner and hold the doors-close button. When I unfreeze, the doors slide shut and I glide down into the basement. The door opens and the Professor and a rugged looking man are walking down the hall towards me. I snap, flinching.

Neither of them are looking at the open elevator, I seem to have gone unnoticed. The rugged looking man is wearing dog tags, barely visible under his shirt. I lift them and peek.

"Wolverine," I whisper. I slip them back into place and walk down the hall behind them. All the rooms down here are sealed off. Door after futuristic door I pass, tapping and pushing on some. Not that any would open unless I unfroze, and that's not going to happen. Then I come across a more important looking door. At the end of the hallway it stands, huge, round, and metal. I run up to it and scan my surroundings, considering letting time play just to check this one out. Then I realize it's probably locked anyway, and it would really just be a stupid risk.

I find myself disappointed as I reenter the elevator and unfreeze to go back up. When the doors open at the top Storm quickly grabs my arm and looks into my eyes.

Immediately, I freeze them and run to my room. I know they'll be after me now. She saw me. And who knows if Professor X or Wolverine did.

I panic in my room for maybe an hour before I realize I never unfroze things. This makes me a little more panicky. I don't know how to control this! The world I stepped into is so much bigger than I am.

Another hour at least passes before I hear a knock on the door.

"Mallory," I hear the Professor say.

"Call me Lapse," I reply. Maybe if I come into this conversation in control, I won't get into as much trouble for snooping.

"Lapse," he says, "What were you doing in that elevator?"

"I-" I say. I go to the door and open it a crack. "I was exploring."

"You could have asked us what was downstairs," he says.

"I didn't know there was a downstairs," I say, "And you wouldn't have told me about it."

"Maybe not immediately, but after a while I'm sure we wouldn't have a choice. You may end up working there someday."

I open the door more. "What do you mean? What's down there?"

Then he told me about the X-men.

My parents somehow kept this from me. Actual mutant superheros. I only ever heard about the bad guys.

"Do you want to see my power?" I ask him with a grin. I know he's probably been inside my head and seen what I've done so far, but he nods and I hold out my hand. He grabs it and I snap my fingers.

I start by picking up my bedspread, leaving it to float in the air. I can feel his eyes following me as I lift my empty suitcase and open all my drawers. I lift my clothes, my shoes. I even lift the string with which I turn on my bedside lamp.

I snap my fingers again and everything falls with a collective _whoomph._

The professor smiles at me.

"I can't wait to see you in class, Mallory," he says, rolling out of the room. I look at the mess I've made and sigh.

Someone else enters the room as I shove in my clothes and close the drawers. Suddenly it's all done, every bit of the mess I've made is cleaned. I'm sitting on my bed looking at a strange new face.

"That's better, now isn't it?" she says with a smile. Her British accent is unexpected. "Hello," I say, holding out my hand, "I'm-"

"Lapse, yes. So you've said," she says with a smirk.

I blink in confusion, searching her mirthful blue-green eyes for a little bit of an explanation. She only smiles wider.

Then she stands. "If you must know," she says, "I'd like to be called Blanc. It's French for white."

I watch her as she flits around the room, arranging this and that. Her stuff is all over, as if she already had time to unpack. A few strange waves of utter nonsense fill my thoughts, like I'm accidentally watching two movies at once.

She smirks at me. "We'll I'm going for supper," she says, taking a light jacket off a hook in the closet and putting on some slippers.

That can't be so, I haven't had lunch yet. I look out the window to see the golden light of a setting fall sun. Blanc opens the door and I turn to look at her.

"You know," she says without turning towards me, "We're sort of two peas in a pod, you and I. You avoid memories, and I..." she flips her long blonde hair, "erase them."

I stare at the closed door, completely lost.


	4. The Truth

Chapter 4

 **!Warning – Description of Relative's Suicide and Physical and Verbal Abuse!**

I didn't go to supper. I pretty much changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. Did she ask me if she could erase me memories? I wouldn't remember if she did. If I ask her she could lie. Very easily, I'm sure. She seems like someone who's used to a few lies.

I heard her come back in when it was long past dark.

"Lapse?" she said.

Well I'll give it to her that she sounds legitimately concerned.

She turns on the light and I pull the covers up higher.

"It's hard your first time," she says soothingly, "And I know you probably don't believe me, but we talked it over, you and I."

I don't believe her. She's convincing, but she wasn't very welcoming when I met, or rather, re-met her.

"I asked if I could demonstrate my power and you said yes, simple as that!" she says.

"Did you even tell me what it was first?" I mutter into my pillow.

"Yes, of course. I don't need Xavier's classes to know right from wrong."

I sit up and look at her. She smiles a little.

"Ok," I say, "Let's start over."

"For real?" she exclaims, jumping up and reaching towards my face, "Fingers on your temple and you won't remember a thing!"

"No! No, no, no," I shout, and jump back, laughing. I snap my fingers and she freezes.

I push all our pillows into the air above her and hide in the closet, snapping my fingers and focusing on the outcome. The pillows will all drop except for one, which will come seemingly out of no where once she starts looking for me.

She squeals, suddenly pummeled with cotton.

"Lapse!" she shouts good-naturedly, "Where are you?"

Then the last pillow falls.

I hear her laugh, albeit a little confused.

I freeze her again and make her go into the hallway. "I've got you, Blanc," I make her whisper.

I hear her in the hallway.

She comes in sounding almost a little frightened. "Lapse, how'd you do that? You all brainy all of a sudden?" she says loudly into the room.

I come out of my hiding place.

"Not brainy, no," I grin. I don't offer any explanation.

"Don't do it again," she says.

I approach her and hold out a hand.

"Let's make a deal," I say, "You don't erase my memory, and I'll take you with me if you're nearby when I freeze things."

She looks at me.

"Babe," she says quietly, "You might want me to erase you sometime."

"No. I can ask Xavier to do it, right?"

She shrugs, "Ok, then. Sure."

She spits in the palm of her hand and I cringe and do the same. The shake makes a solid, wet, slap. It's really quite final.

If I want to freeze around her, I'll have to be discreet.

The next morning, I'm surprised to overhear a phone call.

"I'm fine, mum. Really. My roommate's fabulous, she freezes things. Yes, I saw her at supper, she's right down the hall. Ok, I understand. I love you both. Toodles," Blanc says. She sighs.

"What's your home life like?" I ask. My voice is a bit gravelly from sleep. She turns quickly towards me.

"Didn't know you were awake," she says quietly.

"Well," I prompt.

"My parents are both mutants," she says, "My life's been really quite Ok. They were involved in the Brotherhood a while back, but I think they're clean now. They get along with humans just fine."

"The Brotherhood?" I say, getting up and choosing my clothes.

"You don't- what's your home life like, Lapse?" she says.

"My parents are," I sigh and turn towards her, "Well, I guess you could say they hate mutants. Or, maybe fear would be a better word. They don't know I am one. I guess with a mutation as discreet as mine I could stay hidden forever. Others," I think of Blossom, "Maybe aren't so lucky."

"So you don't know much then?"

"I beg your pardon," I scoff, thinking somehow that she was talking about how I was homeschooled.

"About mutants, silly," she tosses a sock at me.

I fling it back, "Well, I know some things. I guess."

"Well, there's a sort of Civil war going on between the Brotherhood and the X-Men," she starts to explain, "The Brotherhood are probably the reason your parents fear mutants. They don't want to make peace with the humans. They claim their time on earth is done, that mutants should take their place.

"The X-Men believe the opposite, and protect humanity. Or, they try. Media always seems to point out the wrong they've done."

I dress as she talks on and on about past battles and members of the different groups.

"All right, all right, I got it!" I shout playfully, "You're a nerd for this stuff."

She flashes a sheepish grin and we go for breakfast.

There's a class schedule up in the main living room. I search for my name.

"Mallory Reight," I mutter, running my finger up and down the board. I quickly copy the names and times I've found.

"You've got _one on one_ with Jean Grey..," Blanc gapes.

"Who's Jean Grey?"

She looks at me like I've sprouted another nose.

"She's the Phoenix," she hisses.

Suddenly a boy teleports into the small space between the list and the crowd. There's shouting as he blocks the way for everyone but himself and Blanc and I look at each other with mischief in our eyes.

I grab her hand and snap my fingers.

The room is silent and people around us are stiff. I spot blossom, only a few steps behind me and reaching to tap my shoulder. Blanc starts dragging the boy out of the crowd.

I grab blossom's feathery hand and try to pull her into the lapse with us somehow. This proves impossible.

"Lapse, help me out!"

I turn and help Blanc maneuver the teleporting teenager. He has blue eyes and blonde hair and a smirk that could break a mirror.

Blanc catches me staring.

"Don't you dare," she says, "He's definitely not pretty in his actions."

I blush and walk faster. We take him outside.

"Do the brainy thing, make him teleport a few feet off the ground a couple times."

I look at her in surprise.

"Don't you think that's a bit mean?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

I look at the boy.

"If you say so."

I concentrate. The boy will sputter, face down in the grass. He'll get up, teleport, fall, three times.

I snap and the scene drags to life. Unfortunately, we didn't look to see who was watching.

The boy and Blanc freeze, and I'm not the one who froze them.

What are you doing, Lapse?

I spin around. This wasn't the Professor's voice. Standing directly behind me is a tall woman with bright red hair.

"I..," I say, my voice heavy with guilt, "He cut in front of me. Us. When we were all looking at the chart. So I, uh, we thought I'd just..."

"You wanted to punish him," she says.

"Kind of," I admit.

She smiles, not unkindly.

"I hear I am to tutor you," she says.

My eyes open wide.

"Jean Grey," I stutter, "So nice to meet you, I-"

"No need to feel embarrassed, Mallory," she says, "freshman have gotten into much worse trouble than your harmless prank. But I do hope you take something from Xavier's Ethics class."

I still feel a little like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar, though.

I look back at the still scene.

"So.., you can do what I do, huh? _And_ what Xavier does?"

"No, I can't do what you do," she smiles, "Only the two of them are frozen."

I take notice of our surroundings. The grass bends slightly in the breeze, someone looks out the window nearby.

"So, you're brainy."

She laughs and it's like music.

"Yes, you could say that," she says. A man in the distance calls her name.

"I'll see you when classes start," she says. She raises an eyebrow, and snaps her fingers with a grin.

"You used my trick!" I shouted at her back as she walked away. I just wanted to hear her laugh again.

Blanc and I leave the boy confused on the lawn. I don't think he even knew it was us who took him out there, he barely glanced at us and our dew-dampened slippers. I'm disappointed to find that there's no real breakfast in the kitchen for us, just cold cereal, toaster waffles, and instant oatmeal that we'd have to microwave.

Blossom stands in the corner of the dining room with a red Solo cup and a spoon. She eats Lucky Charms in silence.

"Hey, Blossom," I call, waving her over. She makes her way around the dining table. I've saved a seat for her.

"I'd like you to meet Blanc, my new roommate," I tell her, gesturing to the seat on the other side of me. I lean back so they can shake hands.

"My roommate's not here yet," she says, "She'll be arriving the day before classes start."

"That's tomorrow then," Blanc tells her, "Today's Saturday."

"Oh," Blossom says with a shy smile, "I'm a bit nervous for it."

"Nothing to be nervous about," Blanc says kindly, "I mean, Lapse and I got along famously after we had a little spat."

"You had a fight?" Blossom asks me.

"Kind of," I say, "Blanc erases memories. I don't remember lunch yesterday, or the first time I met her. She says I agreed to it, but I couldn't quite know that, could I?"

She shakes her head no, absolutely enthralled by our drama, and I'm reminded again how much younger than we are she is. Maybe because of her home life, the Professor thought he'd take her in early.

"So, we did argue, but it kind of ended in a pillow fight and an agreement never to use our powers on each other, ever. When she's in the room," I elbow Blanc, "I have to take her with me when I freeze."

"You don't have freeze powers," blurts a loud-mouthed kid from across the table, "I saw you, you and her," he points to Blanc, "disappeared when we were at the board today."

"Well, what if I did that?" Blanc asks him, annoyed.

"No way, I was listening to your story. You erase memories," He points a meaty finger. It stretches out like rubber across the table and pokes her in the nose. She bites at it as it shrinks away, and the boy laughs.

I notice now that we've caught the attention of almost the whole table. This kid's yelling is almost annoying enough that no one can pay attention to anything else.

"I just call it freezing," I say, "I'm Lapse." I hold out my hand to shake his, smirking as I hold my other one under the table for Blanc and Blossom to touch. At the last minute, I realize this will make it impossible to snap my fingers, so when the boy's hand reaches out I quickly touch it with my little finger and snap.

He laughs, confused at my pinky finger touch, then he looks around at his quiet classmates.

"Whoa," he says, not yelling for once.

Blossom, Blanc, and I finish our cereal quietly, while he takes a toaster waffle from the kid next to him. As he takes a bite, I snap again. The kid starts shouting at him. My friends and I leave the table.

Back in my room, we do girl stuff. Chatting and throwing pillows at each other. I bring out some candy. (Always prepared)

Then we start to talk about our families and Blossom gets really quiet.

"My mom's pregnant, actually," Blanc says, "the kid's pretty much guaranteed to have the X gene, but there's a bit on nervousness on my parent's part. What if she's human?" Blanc shrugs, "I honestly wouldn't mind it, but I don't know if my dad would be as easy going about it."

"If I was your parents," Blossom says quietly, "I wouldn't be easy going about it."

We turn to her in surprise.

"Humans are cruel," she says, looking at the pillow she's clutching.

"That's not true," I say gently, "Most humans are kind. And maybe understanding."

She looks at me condescendingly, something foreign and frightening on her face.

"Maybe a few are kind, Lapse, but certainly not most."

I'm uncomfortable.

"My parents never loved me," she says, "Most certainly not after they found out about my mutation. I was always careful before Xavier came by, only using my vines to protect myself when my parents were too high or drunk to remember it the next day.

My older sister, though, she knew. She was there the day my hands turned green, sprouted feathers. She was the only light I had, and she-" Blossom chokes, but she doesn't cry, "She killed herself last year."

I want to hug her, but Blanc beats me to it.

"Her body hung in our bathroom for days before my parents wondered where she was. They dumped it in the river, noose still on, and I never heard a thing about it again. Our city isn't the kind of place where a body in the reservoir is strange.

"After that, I couldn't take the abuse anymore. I was lucky, they never seemed to notice my green hands, and I was able to hide when either of them were angry. But not after Xavier came. They were mad at me specifically, then. They jeered, of course, 'what makes you think you're special enough for a gifted school?' they said, 'you applied to some fancy academy so you can cart us off to jail, is that it?'

"They hit me and hit me," she shakes her head now, as if they're still doing it, "And I just... couldn't. So I shelled up. They couldn't touch me in there. They tried to move me, but I latched to the door frame, the light fixture. I'm sure it looked like a jungle, the net I made.

"And they did what I'll never forget," she says, "They started blaming each other. 'You have the monster gene!' 'No, you have the monster gene!' and back and forth like toddlers," she says, cracking the same condescending smile she gave to me earlier, "And that was when I finally felt more evolved than them."

Blanc nods as though she agrees, but I just feel sick to my stomach.

"You should know, Lapse," Blossom says to me, "You should understand! You think your parents would love you if you told them you were a mutant?"

"Yes," I say, even though I'm not nearly as sure as I sound, "Yes I do."

I pull out my cell phone and dial my home number. Blanc and Blossom watch me curiously.

"Hi sweetheart!" I hear my mom say, "Your father and I were just talking about you. Here, I'll put you on speaker."

I do the same, shushing the others.

"So," my mom says, "How's the school?"

"It's great," I say, trying to sound confidant, "I met my roommate, she's British."

"How interesting," my dad says, "she came all the way just to go to this school?"

"It's very exclusive," I say with a smile, knowing he'll be impressed.

"Mmm," he says, "that's wonderful. It will look great on your records."

"Yes," I agree, "But I actually called you for a reason."

"Oh?" my mom says in the distance.

"There's something I need to tell you, and you may want to sit down."

"What is it sweetheart?" my mother says, closer to the phone now.

"I, uh..," I say, starting to feel too anxious to feign bravado.

"You can tell us, my dear," my dad says, but I can tell he's a bit worried.

"I'm a mutant."

The words hang in the air, and the only noise coming over the phone is a slight electric buzzing. I look from the phone to my new friends. They're staring at me with both worry and suspense.

"Could you... say that again?" my dad says.

"I'm a mutant. This is a mutant school. Professor Xavier invited me here because of it."

I can imagine my dad shaking his head.

There's another long silence and I start to feel very worried.

"We'll-"

And that's all I need to hear. I slip a hand under my thigh and snap my fingers, trying to keep perfectly still so it doesn't look like I've moved when I unfreeze.

My mind is racing. Do they care? Don't they love me? I don't want to find out what they'd actually say.

I picture my parents and start envisioning what was most certainly going to be a 'we'll call you back,' as a 'we love you anyway.' I hope my power works long distance and snap my fingers again.

"-call you back," my mom says, and I cringe. I don't let my tears fall just yet.

"Don't bother." I tell her, and hang up.

I look at Blossom, a sob threatening to dig it's way up my throat.

"I guess you're right."

 _Hello again! Hope you're enjoying Lapse's plights. Please let me know what you think! Have I made any mistakes? I'm completely open to story ideas and constructive criticism. If you had a mutant power, what would it be?_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _-flutterbye_


	5. Settling In

Chapter 5

!Warning – Casual nudity (someone takes a shower in an open shower room) and mention of a mildly inappropriate situation!

Classes start on Monday morning, so today I nervously gather my thoughts and supplies. I unpack and repack my bag, counting my pencils and notebooks until I'm sure I haven't made any mistakes. I'd hate not to be prepared.

Blanc looks a bit amused by my antics.

"I haven't been to a real school for two years," I explain, "And never a private school."

"Relax," she urges me, putting her hair into curlers for the evening.

She must be a bit tense too, though, because we both jump when there's knock at the door. Blanc pulls a robe over her spaghetti-strap. I'm still fully dressed.

"Who is it?" I call. Blossom enters without answering and closes the door behind her, a panicked expression on her face.

"What's wrong," Blanc asks, taking the robe off again. It's as if she thought a boy would be calling on us.

"I just met my roommate," she hisses.

"Oh no, is she awful?" I ask. We sit down in pretty much the same positions we were in the last time we talked.

"She seems ok..," blossom mutters, pulling up her legs and wrapping her arms tightly around them.

"Then what's the problem?" Blanc asks, gently patting Blossom's hair. Blossom doesn't seem to know how to handle this maternal gesture, and she jumps up and sits on my bed instead. I link arms with her and jostle her gently.

"Give us the scoop," I demand.

"Well, she came this morning before I woke up, so, naturally I was surprised when I opened my eyes and saw someone else's stuff around."

"Naturally," Blanc interrupts. I shush her silently.

"So, I got up and went to shower- by the way, there's someone with wings here now," she diverges, "Big red wings. She's gorgeous-"

"Don't change the subject," I scold.

"Ok. I got back to my room and she was there. She was so nice. Really friendly. I just felt really shy... because she's.., like... well..."

"Spit it out!" urges Blanc.

"She's me," she says. She watches our faces closely for a reaction.

"I'm not sure I get what you mean," I tell her, scooting away from her so I can face her.

"She's me. She explained it right away, she basically has a mental sort of force field that makes everyone see themselves when they look at her, but it's still really weird," she almost shudders.

"Like what, some kind of.., brainy mirror?" Blanc says. I laugh again at her use of the word 'brainy.'

"Yeah. Sure. It's not like I really know. She was still, like, wearing her own outfit, and her hair was much longer than mine is, but her face, skin, hands... totally me."

"That's crazy," I say, "When can we meet her?"

"Not tonight," she says, "Her parents pretty much dumped her here, so she went out with Storm and a few others to buy clothes and stuff."

"You'll have to introduce us before classes tomorrow," Blanc tells her, spraying her curlers with some kind of solution.

"I think," I say, standing, "that I'm going to the living room to socialize."

" _I_ think," Blanc says, "that I need to introduce you to my sister."

"You have a sister?" we say.

She nods. "A year older than me," she says, "She started going here last year."

"Why didn't you tell us," Blossom asks suspiciously.

"We don't get along," she says with a shrug.

Her sister lives right down the hall. Blanc knocks on the door. "Oh, sissy!" she sing-songs.

A leggy girl with the same long blond hair as Blanc opens the door with an eyebrow raised.

"What is it, Christine," she asks with a forced friendliness.

"I told you yesterday, I want to be called Blanc now," she mutters, pushing her way in. Blossom and I follow.

"These are my friends," Blanc says, "They wanted to meet my _wonderful_ and _caring_ sister." She spreads sarcasm on thick.

Her sister sticks her tongue out at her, her smooth, tan, face wrinkling. Then she turns to us and she's all charm.

"I'm Elizabeth," she says, holding out a slender hand. Her fingernails are all perfectly rounded. I shake it like it's a ceramic figurine.

"Lapse," I say.

"Blossom," Blossom squeaks.

"Did my sister tell you what my powers are?" She says. She clears her throat, almost nervously, if she could be anything other than composed.

"No, Sissy," Blanc assures her, "I wouldn't do that."

Now, of course, I'm completely curious.

She smiles, dazzling white teeth all in a perfectly straight row. "Good! Then I believe our conversation is over! My new roommate will be here any minute and I don't want you in here when she is," she says with a clap of her hands. She shoos us out.

"Wow," I mutter, "I think I understand when people say I'm lucky to be an only child!"

Blossom looks slightly pained, but she says nothing as we walk back down the hallway.

"But, seriously, Blanc," I whisper, "What's your sister's power?"

She smirks and hurries us into the room.

"My sister," she says conspiratorially, "Can change her gender!"

We both look at her.

"That's not really a big deal," Blossom says, "What does she look like when she's a he?"

"That's the thing," she tries not to laugh, "It's only her, erm, equipment, that changes."

I burst into laughter. Blossom looks a bit disturbed.

"How did she find out?" she asks.

"There was a dance in secondary school," she starts, sitting down and patting two spaces beside her on the bed.

We sit down.

"It was a girl's choice, so she asked her boyfriend and it was all going well. Her dress was perfect, his tux was perfect, they both looked absolutely _perfect._ " She fakes a gag and rolls her eyes. "The dance itself went by without a hitch. Then he asked if she wanted to get out of there. I'm sure it was all very exciting. Two fourteen-year-olds, running off for a snog. Trying to keep out of the eyes of the chaperons.

"They got to the _love_ tree that's out by the school's gymnasium building and he pulled out a pocket knife and carved a little heart with E+J in it, because his name was Jared. Then he kissed her and she got all flustered," She grins, "It was so interesting to see my perfect sister flustered, and-"

"Wait," I interrupt, "See your sister flustered? You're making all these details up, you weren't there."

She taps her temple with a smug smile.

"I erase memories remember? Or I guess you could say I steal them. When she found out what I could do, she begged to take this story away, and so now I'm the only one who knows it," she says, "Anyway, he decided to take a grope because he _wasn't_ a gentleman, and in her excitement she had activated her mutation. Jared got a lot more than he bargained for."

At this point Blossom and I are laughing, partly because Jared got what was coming to him, pulling a move like that.

Blanc looks pleased for making us laugh so hard. One curler just above her left ear unfastens and she fixes it before it unrolls. I need a shower. The group shower thing is not exactly new to me, but because I was such a late bloomer, only really developing when I turned fourteen, I never felt awkward about it in middle school.

This is a different story. I'm sixteen now. It's more shameful somehow. I gather my clothes and my toiletries and nearly slink down the hallway.

I'm happy to hear only one other shower running. I grab a towel and put it on the shelf outside a shower, quickly undressing and folding my clothes.

I feel self-conscious as I hear other people walking in and out of the shower rooms. Then I can feel someone watching me. It doesn't help that the showers face each other. And that there aren't curtains. It's a bit stark and jail-like, to be honest.

I can't shake the feeling that eyes are on my naked back, and it's giving me the serious creeps. I peek at the shower across from me and see the girl in it quickly turn her head. Her wet black hair slaps against her shoulder as if to solidify what I had seen.

I try to shake it off, but I can't, so I snap my fingers and catch her watching me. She's quite young, and her face is more perplexed than anything. I quickly sift through her pile of stuff.

There's a small pink wallet in the pocket of her jeans. I feel bad as I open it, but I'm not disappointed. Her library card tells me her name; Charlee Dacker. A business card advertises Dacker and Becker, Mutants at law. A receipt says she bought her suitcase recently. An aged Chuck-E-Cheese picture tells me she turned five in 2006. Some quick math, and I figure she's fifteen, not as young as I thought.

Nothing, though, tells me what her powers are. Or why she'd be looking at me with such confusion.

I step back into the shell the water of my shower has made, and snap my fingers again. Her pair of jeans falls off the shelf. Her belt makes a loud clattering sound on the floor. Everyone looks towards the sound except her.

She stares at me and slightly, only slightly, nods.

This is getting intense, hey? I have to admit, I had no idea any of this was going to happen until it did. I love filling the school with new characters, and I'd adore hearing about any OCs you have for me! This isn't guaranteeing I'll use them, but I'd be delighted!

-flutterbye


	6. Misjudgement

Chapter 6

!Warning – Mild language!

My first class is at eight, and then the week flies by. I'm busy with all sorts of schoolwork. It's light schoolwork, but it keeps me occupied all the same.

My first one-on-one session is on Friday, and it's only then that I realize that not all students get tutoring like this.

I decide to bring it up with Jean Grey when I see her.

"Well," she says, "To put it bluntly, some students show more potential than others. We normally wouldn't train any of you at all, at least not to fight, but we _are_ in a time of dire need."

"Whoa," I say, "whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm learning to _fight_ with my powers? How even?"

She smiles. "We won't start with combat. Let's just.., see what you can do."

"Ok," I say under my breath, following her into the yard.

"All right," she says, "You see that man over there?"

The man who I saw drive her away the other day stands beneath a tree at the other side of the field.

"You mean your boyfriend?"

She looks at me, "What makes you think he's my boyfriend?"

"He picked you up earlier. When you caught Blanc and me in the yard."

She nods. "Well, people other than a date can drive you places, but I can see why you'd assume. Things have gotten complicated. I'm not really sure he's my-"

I snap my fingers and walk up to the man. He has some cool sunglasses with red lenses. I take them off to see that they were holding back a bolt of energy.

"Let's fix your aim, then," I say to myself, pushing his head to the sky. The bolt of red energy still sits in the air. So I take the glasses and try and use them like a net. It absorbs the red energy; it no longer exists. I pocket the glasses. Then, I take my time. I go back to my room and get one of Blanc's blouses. I take a chair from the dining room.

I feel a bit awkward as I bend the man at the waist and sit him in the chair, and even more awkward when I take his jacket for myself and squeeze his arms into the blouse. The effect will be great, though, I tell myself. Then I look around the yard for more inspiration. I see, in the distance, Wolverine, watching Jean Grey.

"Maybe you're what makes Jean's relationship complicated," I say to the still man. He has a rough face and arms, but no scars. He probably likes to pretend he's a tough guy, but his hands are uncalloused. I don't think he's worked a day in his life.

I take off his dog tags and lift him to remove his shoes. The way my lapses do gravity is really fun to mess with. I try and put him down the way he was before so that he doesn't lose balance.

I put the shoes and dogtags on the other man, stand back where I was, and snap my fingers.

"-boyfriend," she finishes. Then all hell breaks loose.

A beam of powerful red light shoots into the sky, causing everyone except me to cry out in alarm.

Then I hear Wolverine shout. He races across the field towards the man in the chair. "Scott!" he bellows. He must have noticed the shoes. Then I see blades shoot out of his fists, one of which he holds to Scott's throat.

"Give it back!" he yells at him. Jean looks once, bewildered, at me, then runs across the yard. I follow quickly behind.

"Stop it!" she shouts at them. Scott's eyes are squeezed shut, Wolverine holds the collar of the blouse I put him in in one hand, and presses his fist-knives to Scott's throat with the other. I hear him yell something about the tags.

I snap my fingers and give myself a moment to breathe. I should've expected that something would go wrong.

I put everything back: the blouse, the glasses, the chair, the shoes. I pick up wolverine and take him back to where he was. His muscles are tense; I have trouble forcing him into a more relaxed standing position. Scott I simply can't stand back up. He's too tall for me to pull him up, and I don't feel like pushing on his butt.

Instead I sit him in the grass. I take Jean back to where we started out. Then I picture the start-up. They'll stay quiet. Quiet and confused. Then who knows what'll happen.

They do stay quiet. Then Wolverine hesitantly steps towards Jean and I. "What the hell," he mutters at us.

"Sorry," I squeak. I'm sort of tucked behind Jean, frightened by the outburst I just saw. I misjudged the guy once, I'm not doing it again.

He points at me. "She did this?" he very nearly growled.

"Logan," she says, "Meet Lapse."

"Lapse," he says under his breath, raising an eyebrow and holding out a hand.

I very carefully shake it. I tilt my head to look at the place on his knuckles where the knives came out.

He stares at me.

Jean smiles, a little stiffly, in my direction.

"Excuse us for a moment, Lapse," she says. She and Logan walk towards Scott, probably talking about me.

I sit in the grass.

"Do you know what happened just now?" I hear from behind me.

I turn to see a boy approaching. I'd guess he's about my age, even though he's much taller than I'll ever be.

"Pardon me?" I say, staying seated.

"I was just over there," he points towards the driveway, "I came to go to the school. I was just about to go in and register actually, but I, ah, heard a commotion of some kind?"

His green eyes sparkle and his smile is open and honest. I pat the ground beside me.

"You interest me," I tell him, "Why were you walking to the school?"

"I've been on my own since I was fifteen, so..," he counts on his fingers, "A little over a year now."

"And..," I prompt.

"And I heard about the school through a series of friends of friends and I decided it would be the best place for me. At the moment at least."

"Well, I'm sorry to say you're a little too late. Classes started today," I say, "I don't know what the registration limit is, but I have the feeling it's over by now. But, then again, the Professor seems like a lenient person. Or, maybe not lenient. But kind, for sure."

He nods, his long dark hair bouncing.

"I'm Lapse, by the way," I say, holding out a hand.

"Nice to meet you." His handshake is confident. "Call me Coleton."

I tell him _exactly_ what it was he overheard. He starts laughing halfway through and doesn't stop until the end of my story.

"Comic genius," he says, and I blush at the compliment. I wish Blanc was here. She'd nip this flirtation in the bud. Instead, I get flustered as we talk. He has charm seeping out of his ears. And what a lovely shade of caramel those ears are.

He tells me his parents are super rich, but super neglectful. He pretty much lived on his own his whole life, so it was second nature once he actually left home. They never knew his plans. They also never knew he was mutated.

He demonstrated to me, his eyes changing from green to a fiery red and a deep humming coming from deep in his throat. The ground around him starts to vibrate with sound, pebbles from the path we're sitting near scattering into the grass. I feel it start to affect the ground deeper and deeper down. Some part of me that I can't name aches with the sound.

I shiver once he's quiet.

"I've never gone farther than that," he said, "but if I built up my stamina, I'm sure I could make an earthquake or something." His eyes slowly fade back to their regular green.

"Who's this?"

Jean stands above us. The boy immediately stands, holding out a hand for her to shake.

"I'm Coleton Rockefeller, I was hoping for a place here at the school?" he says, suddenly exhibiting a more professional brand of charming.

"You're free to go until your next class, Lapse," Jean tells me. Coleton follows her away, looking back at me once to wink.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Sorry for the wait there. I just started as a freshman in college, and I'm trying to balance everything right now. Don't you worry, though. This is high on my list of things to balance. Please feel free to send me private messages if you want to chat! I'm having some difficulty responding to reviews, and I think the format favors those as more of a one-way form of communication. I have a few chapters lined up and I'm working on more as I speak! (I'm also taking a writing class, so hopefully I'll be improving!)_

 _-flutterbye_


	7. Charlee

!Warning: Mild language!

I tell the girls about Coleton, and they can't wait for an introduction. Unfortunately, as the week goes on, I don't see hide or hair of him. I wonder if he wasn't able to stay after all.

I look forward to one-on-one on Friday so that I can ask Jean about him. I consider bringing it up with one of the other teachers or the professor, but I feel more comfortable with the Phoenix.

I ask Blanc about her when we all have a shared free time Wednesday afternoon. We stroll on the grounds. The fountain sparkles and birds chirp. It is, all in all, a beautiful Wednesday. Certainly not the setting for some of the stories Blanc tells me about the terrible and beautiful Phoenix.

I wish she wouldn't go into such detail. I'll have trouble, now, keeping the words in my mouth when Jean's around.

Blossom introduces her roommate Samantha to us on Thursday. It takes me too long to stop staring. I'm looking at my own face, at my own lips, as they convey different emotions and say different words than I'm saying at the moment.

It's entirely different than watching a video of myself or looking in a mirror. I think it might be the strangest thing that has happened to me. Ever.

She's very understanding, letting Blanc and I circle her and look at ourselves wearing clothes and hair we're not used to. Her hair is a lot darker, longer, and curlier, than mine is, and her blouse and skirt more feminine than what I usually wear.

I stand in front of her again and look her in the eyes. "Do boys see themselves in this outfit?" I ask.

After a few more tense seconds, we all burst into giggles.

"That would explain it," she says with my voice, "Boys here at the school have been avoiding me like they're frightened. I guess it could rather be that they're embarrassed."

Her laugh is mine.

"It must be hard, though," Blanc says, "Never knowing what body type to dress for, what color scheme will be neutral enough to work on everyone."

"I don't usually bother," she says, "I just dress for me."

"It still must," Blanc says, "You don't know what you look like to other people. How could we ever know what you looked like before?"

"Girl, there are other ways," my face says with a sass I don't have, "Do either of you have a mirror?"

I open our closet door to show the full length one that came with the room. Standing there, instead of me, is a short dark-skinned girl with ruby red eyes. She smiles.

"You see? There I am."

Blossom is unsurprised. I can tell that she's already more comfortable with her than she was the day she ran in to tell us about her. I don't know how long it would take me to get used to living with myself.

"So," I ask her, "Are you going to change your name?"

"I like to think that my name keeps me a little bit real," she says quietly, and I can suddenly see that she's not as OK with her power as she's pretending to be. I can't imagine having one like her's or Scott's that are active all the time.

The classes at this school are very different from what I expected. There are ordinary high school classes, like English, history, and math, but with mutant centered ideas. For example, we're learning about mutant history, and mutant _alternate_ history, which really confuses me.

They tell us that there was another version of our lives where the world was ending, but now, because of a mutant with time travel powers or something, we live in this version. I find it pretty hard to understand or believe.

I ask Jean about Coleton the moment I see her Friday morning.

"He is at the school," she says, "You must not have seen him."

Then she goes right into the tutoring, asking me about my limits, other aspects of my power, and how long I can hold it for.

I'm disappointed by her answer to my question about Coleton, but I leave it be and answer her.

"And," I say, "I can control people for a few seconds after I unfreeze things."

This she looks skeptical about.

"Prove it."

I snap my fingers. She'll spin in three circles, then pull a flower out of her pocket and give it to me.

This she does solemnly before looking at me in a way I can't interpret.

"I didn't even have a flower in my pocket," she said, "You put that there, right?"

I shake my head.

She looks at me with a new interest.

"Lets find out the limit of that," she tells me. I picture what that limit would be.

I pause and envision a treasure chest with a cat inside. I picture Jean lifting the earth away with her mind and finding the box.

And so it came to pass. Jean said that was enough for one day. She honestly seemed a bit frazzled, if that was a thing this beautiful creature could be.

The cat I made hangs around now. Students sneak it food and leave a dish of water in the bushes.

Charlee Dacker seems to show up in my peripheral shockingly often. She's like a quiet little tail, peeking around corners and looking through windows when I'm nearby. I'm in the library on Saturday and she blatantly stares from the dark back shelves.

I confront her, using the lapse to appear behind her. She spins around with precision and crushes my throat with her arm.

"What the hell are you doing," she hisses. I can only make a shrill croaking.

"You been spying on me?" she asks me, and the fire behind the short girl's eyes shows me, once again, that I shouldn't misjudge. She lowers her arm a few inches so I can speak.

"You've been spying on _me_ ," I insist.

She shakes her head like this is beside the point.

"Your future is muddled, tell me _why,_ " she says, pushing painfully against my collarbone.

"I don't know what you mean," I say, trying to twist out of her hold. She grabs my neck with her other hand, holding strong without cutting off my voice.

"You jump all over, you age in leaps, you learn things you shouldn't know without the passing of time," she hisses, "What can you do? How do you know so much about me?"

"I can freeze time," I explain, "I looked in your wallet because you were watching me when we were in the shower. That's all."

"I was only watching you because you would know about me," she says.

She has a way of speaking that makes me wonder if English is her first language. She doesn't have an accent, exactly. It's really more that her inflection is off. She puts emphasis on strange parts of her sentences.

She releases me. "It seems like we've simply had a misunderstanding," she says, holding out a hand, "You know my name. What is yours?"

"I call myself Lapse, but my name is Mallory," I say. Her bright blue eyes inspect me from behind curtains of curly dark hair.

"I call myself Charlee. I don't want a pseudonym," she says.

"So, Charlee," I say, looking at the books on the floor. They must have spilled from her bag during our scuffle.

"Yes, Lapse?" she says, calling my attention back to her face.

"Um, do you want to be friends?" I say, failing to find a more charming way to word it.

Her grin is bright. She pushes her hair behind her ears. "Yes I do. Who are your friends?"

I tell her to meet me at my room after supper. I'm starting to gather quite a group. Our discussions will look more like parties before long.

Blanc admits she'd noticed the girl. "I didn't want to worry you," she says.

Blossom is interested in meeting her. I tell her to invite Samantha.

"We might as well fill the room," I laugh. I should have known better, though.

I introduced Charlee to Blanc easy enough, but when Blossom and Sam come in Charlee blows up.

"Who is she?!" she screeches of Samantha, attacking her after a second of silence. Pinned to the floor, Samantha tries to explain herself, but Charlee will hear none of it.

"Impostor!" She slaps her. "What are you trying to do?"

Samantha is crying and we're trying to pull Charlee off of her. When we succeed, Sam runs from the room.

"Charlee!" I shout, "That's her power! Everyone sees themselves! What is wrong with you?"

She just starts yelling at us to put her down. We let go. She sits on the bed with a wild look on her face, obsessively tapping her legs.

"I should go check on Sam," Blossom says quietly.

Blanc sits gently next to Charlee.

"You'll be OK," she coos to her, "Everything will be all right."

Slowly Charlee calms down and smiles at Blanc.

She leaves after a few minutes and Blanc goes to see Sam and Blossom before I have a chance to ask her how she knew to calm Charlee down. She comes back with a sort of darkness in her eyes that keeps me from questioning her.

"Samantha's fine," she says curtly. She quickly strips and tucks in bed. The clock says it's eight, but I go to bed too.

There's a knock on the door right when I'm about to fall asleep. Angrily, Blanc opens it.

"I said it's fine, sissy," she snaps. The door closes and I'm left wondering what sibling rivalry must feel like.

I only notice when she comes back in because she slams the door.

"Blanc," I growl into my pillow.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"What's up between you and Elizabeth?" I ask after a few silent minutes. She rolls over to face me.

"She asked me a favor," she says, "she was just checking up on the results."

"Care to go into detail?" my curiosity says against my will.

"Well, long story short, I told a few friends back home about her powers and they outed it. I owe her one. She made me promise to erase her old friend's memories about it, and that she basically has a tally of how many times she can ask me to erase someone's memory. So, she called that in."

"Why?"

"She decided to see what her roommate's reaction would be to her telling her," she says, with a whispered laugh, "It didn't go over well. My sister had to convince her not to switch rooms. I guess she didn't feel comfortable knowing Elizabeth can change like that."

I ponder this thought as I start to fall asleep.

"It wouldn't bother me if it were you and I, Blanc," I mumble.

I can swear I hear her crying as I slip into my dreams.


	8. Blanc's Secrets

!Warning – Violence, Mentions of the Choking Game!

I have some time to myself on Sunday, walking the grounds and lapsing for fun. I climb a tree in the yard and watch people walk by, oblivious to my gaze. At lunch I sit on a couch with Blossom. The dining room was much too loud.

We don't talk much, Blossom and I. We watch a cooking show on the television, wishing we were eating what they made. We made comments as though we were experts. "That's much too much salt." "She should peel those cucumbers first." "What an ugly shade of green. She should add more blue dye to that."

We end up gathering a small group who play the game with us, acting as cocky as the contestants on the shows. Another group gets annoyed at how loud we we're getting and confiscate the remote, forming a sort of wall keeping us from the TV. We start talking with each other instead.

Two of the girls wander off, but the other two stay and introduce themselves in depth. They're roommates in another wing of the school, far from our room. That's probably why I haven't seen them around. I certainly would have noticed. One of the girls has large feathered wings, a deep blood red. She holds them close to her back to keep them out of the way, but as we talk I watch them. She moves them occasionally, stretches. I can tell the position she keeps them in is uncomfortable.

The other girl seems average in comparison, excepting the darkness I detect in her eyes. This is someone who's had some damage done. The winged girl calls herself Douma. "It's the Angel of the Silence of Death," she says, "I was raised Catholic, so I thought it was fitting." The other girl tells us her name is Scarlett. "But if I'm going to be a superhero," she says, "Like the Professor says I might, I want to be Panther Girl. So feel free to call me that."

She has green eyes and shoulder length blonde hair. The only reason I can think of for her to name herself that is if she has a tail or something catlike I can't see, because nothing that's visible to me is particularly feline. Well, besides her thin shoulders. And she's quite muscular. Maybe she can run like a cheetah or something. I'll have to ask her later.

Douma has skin pale like death and rare gray eyes. She smiles only slightly when she catches me looking at her wings. "I grew them when I was twelve," she says. Her voice is surprisingly chirpy. It doesn't match her appearance. "My backwards little Catholic town created a cult around me. It was getting weird, so I left."

I feel mildly uncomfortable hearing about this so soon after I met the girl. Everyone around here is always bursting at the seams with tragic backstories they can't wait to rant about. Blossom tells her about herself, not once mentioning her late sister.

I tell them a brief version of my own story, saying out loud for the first time that my parents disowned me. The words are sour, but I lean into the taste. We try not to make Scarlett feel pressured to share, but in the end our glances in her direction make her spill.

"When my parents learned about my power, they were supportive, actually," she tells us, "They tried to help me keep it a secret, but, It wasn't that easy for me. People found out. They got mad. First there were signs outside. Harmless, you know? Crudely spray-painted words on cardboard. 'Die, mutt.' and stuff like that.

"We cleaned it up and moved on. But the signs got meaner. People started picketing. Eggs and fireworks hit our house every day. Eventually, my parents called the police because people were getting rowdy. We were just watching a movie together when we heard beating on the door. That was too much for them, so of course the police are where they'd go.

"Well, it was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea." Her eyes are dark. I want to tell her she doesn't have to continue, but I feel like interrupting would be worse. I stay quiet while she collects her thoughts.

"The police got there, we heard the sirens, but the group only got louder. A window broke in the back. We heard a door open, and," she pauses, looking at a point in the distance, "The police _led the mob in_. My parents were scared, I was terrified. I did the only thing I thought I could possibly do. I did my thing. I turned into a panther. I tried to get them to leave, but there were gunshots. I just," she pauses again, unmeasurable emotion moving on her face, "The Panther's ears are so sensitive. I ran. I wasn't thinking. I couldn't control it. I looked back from the street and saw my parents being shot through our front windows."

The conversation dies after that. We all say our apologies, of course, but it's so light against the violence she's described that it might as well be dust sprinkled in the ocean. Douma gently pats her roommate's shoulder and they walk away. "We'll see you later," she mouths over her shoulder at us. A wing reaches around Scarlett as they walk away.

I rarely see them around school. We must get the timing exactly wrong. When I do see them, though, I tell them my room's always open. "Just tell my roommate Blanc that you're a friend," I say. They agree to, but I haven't seen them there yet.

Blanc has been awfully quiet. In fact, she has been different since the night she argued with her sister in the hall. I feel like I would be intruding if I asked, but of course whatever's eating her eats at me too. She's sitting on her bed one evening while I do homework.

I keep glancing over at her, assuming she'd start reading a book or something, but she's inspecting the open closet door. She pulls her hair up and drops it down, and I realize she's looking in the mirror. She doesn't look impressed.

"Blanc," I say quietly. She startles and looks at me. "What's up with you lately?"

She doesn't want to look at my eyes. I push my books aside and go to sit beside her.

"I'm serious. You've been weird," I say.

"Well," she says, still looking away from me. "You could say that. But it's not now that I'm being 'weird.' It was before."

I stay quiet.

"I came here hoping I could change." She sounds remorseful. "My parents never made it a requirement that I come here. I just wanted to get out of that house. Be someone different. I knew my sister would be here, but I didn't think she'd make it this hard."

"How is she making it hard, if you don't mind my asking?"

She counts on her fingers, "She introduces me as Christine, she tells her friends about my personal issues, she's as judgmental as our parents, she's still 'perfect in every way,' and somehow she still can pretend that she cares about me." Blanc huffs in frustration.

"I just wish we had a few more years age difference."

I think about what she's said. "Blanc, I don't know about your _sister's_ friends, but I still see you as the person I was introduced to. The second time." She smiles. I continue, "This Blanc is the weird one for me. So, excuse me if I've missed your point, but I think that you can still be a new person here. Just, not with your sister's friends."

She looks at me sadly. "You're very kind, Lapse, but I think you _have_ missed my point." She laughs, and it surprises me. "Not that I've given you all the facts." She looks at me, "Are you ready for a long story?"

I scoot closer to her and lean against her.

"Ok," she says, "I think I've already told you that my parent's were part of the brotherhood, so as you can imagine that doesn't set them up for a particularly accepting view on anything. When I was little, they told me how much they were looking forward to knowing what I could do. Knowing how, someday, I could help the brotherhood."

She laughs mirthlessly. "I suppose it wasn't as bad as that sounds, but it effected me. I, uh..."

I put an arm around her.

"I started playing a game," she says. This throws me for a loop. My thoughts scramble to figure out where she's going with this.

"I was homeschooled, but I still had a group of friends. Private-schoolers from the institution down the street. They introduced me to the choking game."

I pull back from her and look closely at her face. I mentally recoil. My parents, of course, told me that this was something teenagers did, and why it was such a bad thing. It was a similar conversation to the ones they had with me about drugs and unprotected sex. And mutants, for that matter.

I inspect her throat only briefly before looking into her eyes, inviting her to continue the story.

"It was a spiral," she said, "Whenever my parents gave me that awful, disappointed look, I just..."

I notice, now, that she's trying not to cry. "It was an ecstasy that was unmatched, to me. But my sister found out. I guess I could have erased it, but I think I knew how much trouble I was getting myself into because I let her continue to know."

"She said she had things she knew she shouldn't do, so she wouldn't try to stop me. She helped me cover up bruises with makeup and stuff, but she never spotted for me or anything. Maybe she was more worried about me than she let on.

"Eventually, though, I found out what it was that she did that made her keep my secret." She grows quieter and quieter, as if afraid her sister's listening. "Elizabeth's Bulimic," she nearly whispers, "She pukes what she eats."

I try not to make a sound.

"So, I told her I wanted to b someone else here. I wanted to stop choking. And she was really supportive, actually. She laughed and said it wouldn't work. That she'd tried that sort of thing a lot and it never worked." She absentmindedly pulls her hair into a ponytail.

"So, I wanted to prove her wrong. To be someone new here, you know? But she wouldn't leave me alone. I know you were awake that one time, when she and I fought, but she bothers me a lot more than that. She's trying to be sisterly or something, I don't know."

I don't want to interrupt her train of thought, but she's stopped talking.

"So, you did it again, didn't you?" I whisper.

She looks at me and nods only slightly.

"When?" I ask. She shrugs. "I slipped into the closet when you were at class. I don't know, I've done it three times already."

"Well, you have to stop." I go sit in front of her so we're eye to eye. "It's dangerous. Like, really dangerous. You could die."

She doesn't want to meet my gaze. "I know it is."

"Listen," I say after a pause, "Come get me when you feel like you want to choke, OK? We'll Lapse. Do something crazy. Keep your mind off it for as long as possible."

She smiles a little. "Sure, Lapse."

"You have to promise, Blanc." I want to give her some sense of commitment.

"I promise, Lapse."


	9. Strenuous Activity

!Warning - Some Medical Drama!

"No," she says, "Again."

I've been lapsing for hours. She's only seen a few minutes. I'm liking this one-on-one less and less.

"Why?" I ask her. I'm incredibly frustrated. "Why does this have to be perfect?"

"You need to learn to follow directions," Jean says, "When it's a life or death situation, we need to know you're disciplined enough to handle it."

"But you aren't giving me enough information!"

"I gave you all the information you need, Lapse. You just weren't listening."

"But I'm listening _now_!"

"I'm not going to repeat myself. Try again."

I snap my fingers. She started telling me to get a pair of shoes from a closet. I didn't think she meant a specific pair. I froze and ran off after she finished telling me where the closet was, and didn't hear the shoes' description when I came back. I was much too smug at getting them so fast to listen.

Now, unfortunately, I realize why there are so many shoes in the closet. She knew I liked to jump the gun and wanted to teach me something. I go back and forth, in the house, up the stairs, to the left, closet at the end, down the hall, down the stairs, out of the house, across the yard, _nope wrong shoes_ , do it again. My legs ache from running the first few times, but now I'm taking my time.

"No," she says sternly, "Again."

"But Miss Grey..."

"You did this to yourself, Lapse."

I'm starting to feel a bit queasy.

"Miss Grey, I-"

"Lapse, you must be almost finished. Just a few more, all right?"

I snap my fingers and do it again. I take some red heels from the pile. I take a pause to sit a frozen student on the stairs. All work and no play makes Lapse a dull girl. I hide down a flight to watch his reaction, then freeze again and continue on my assignment. But as I go down the stairs, I feel a sudden dizziness. I clutch the rail as my knees grow weak.

I close my eyes. My head is thick with my heartbeat. I feel better after a few seconds leaning against the wall. Then, I stand up straight again and everything goes black.

The noises have a fuzzy quality to them. "Lapthhhh?"

"Uh huuuuuuh?" I groan. My head feels like there's a bunch of chopped and wilted lettuce stuffed inside.

"Lapse?"

It's Scarlett.

I try to tell her about the lettuce. I see her look away from me and to a girl beside her. "I need you to get a professor. Anyone." She sounds urgent.

I scold her for not listening to me.

"Just try to relax, OK?" she says to me, "Can you tell me what happened?"

I scrunch my eyebrows up as tightly as I possibly can to try and pull the thoughts together. My head hurts a lot. I reach up to touch the pain and notice the blood.

"Holy shoooooot," I say dumbly, "Oh no! Someone's bleeding!"

Scarlett looks at me with a deep concern.

"All right, Lapse, you need to lie down." Suddenly she starts shouting. "I need someone to help me get her all the way down the stairs!"

Someone I recognize pushes through the crowd.

"Hey!" I say, "It's whatshisface."

"Lapse?" Coleton says, shocked.

"Help me, whatshisface."

Scarlett, Coleton, and some random dude lift me and lay me on a couch. Jean Grey is suddenly there.

"All right everyone, move back," she says, "I'll handle this from here."

I see Coleton, Scarlett, and now Blossom and myself hanging around after everyone files away.

"Whoa," I say of myself, "Someone invited me to the party."

I reach up to touch my head where Jean inspects it. "What happened," she asks.

"Um," Scarlett says quietly, "I think she fell down the stairs. She got knocked out. She didn't bleed a lot, pretty much just what you see there."

Jean looks back at the group. "You're all friends of her's." It's not a question. "I need someone to get me a first aid kit. There's one in the kitchen, one in the bathrooms, one in the shower room, whichever's easiest."

Blossom scurries away. Samantha follows her out.

"How are you feeling Lapse?"

"Well," I say. I take a deep breath. "I'm pretty darn sure someone filled my head with wilted lettuce when I wasn't looking. Plus, I don't know where the shoes I had went, so I'll never know if they were the right ones. Also, I think I found my Lapse limit, because I did a think and made someone sitting on the stairs but when I re-froze it I was like 'Whoa!' and then I was like, 'OK,' but then I stood up and then I was telling Scarlett about the lettuce."

I run out of air by the end, but I consider it an accomplishment that I made such a long speech all one breath. It's probably a record or something.

Jean nods the whole way through. "Scarlett, are you sure that's all the blood she lost?"

"Yeah."

"We need to check for a concussion. I need you to go to the professor and ask him to get Lucent in here."

"Lucent, got it." Coleton and Scarlett run off. Blossom and Sam come back with the first aid kit, and Jean gets to work cleaning my head. She puts a sticky bandage on just as Professor Xavier comes in. Coleton pushes his wheelchair. Behind Scarlett comes a meaty teenager. He looks like he could win a football game by himself.

He carefully inspects my skull and Xavier thanks him for his time. He runs off without ever saying a word.

"She'll be fine. There's no cranial swelling."

"Oh good," I say. Everyone looks at me. I sit up.

"You're feeling better?" Blossom asks with hesitation.

"Yeah. I think so. Did you see if I got the right shoes?"

"Lapse, you're holding them."

I look down to see my fingers curled around the heels of the cherry-red shoes.

"Well, did I finish?"

Jean laughs. "No."

The Professor suggests I froze too many times in one day.

"Time can only be disturbed so much. You're lucky it shut off when you went unconscious. If there had been a serious problem you might have died inside your Lapse."

"Actually," I say, "I'm pretty sure I snapped my fingers when I woke up. Or maybe before I fell. I don't know for sure, it's sort of foggy."

He looks concerned.

"Let's not push her as hard next time, Jean. She probably knows her own limits."

She looks at me apologetically and helps Professor X out of the room. Sam and Blossom help me up and watch me carefully as I walk to my room. I feel fine now, albeit thirsty. Sam runs for water upon hearing this.

"I swear, I'm fine." I tell Blossom. We've reached my door. "I can't possibly be the only one who's pushed themselves too far, mutations-wise."

"No," she says, "But you hit your head too. And you fell down the stairs."

"I guess. I feel OK now, though, Blossom. Honestly."

Sam brings me the glass of water I asked for and I swallow it nearly all at once.

"Thank you," I say with a smile. I invite them in. Blanc is out. Her bed's a mess and there's stuff on the floor on her side of the room. My side is a neat mess. My dirty clothes are in a basket, my books are stacked nicely on the floor by my bed, and my shoes are lined in pairs near the wall.

We small talk for a while. The sun starts to make the walls orange as it goes lower outside. Blanc eventually comes in. Her hair is in a towel turban and she smells like flowers.

"Hello Blossom. Samantha."

They greet her, then excuse themselves. As soon as the door clicks closed behind them, the smile on Blanc's face falls away.

She looks sadly at me.

"Can I take you up on that Lapsing offer?"

I close my eyes and consider my incident only a little while earlier. I feel Ok now, though.

"Sure."


	10. Sleep

I wait for her to blow-dry her hair, debating with myself mentally. I should at least tell her, shouldn't I? I feel perfectly capable of freezing at the moment. Not even a little bit of the goofy lightheadedness remains.

She holds out a hand and I grasp it and snap my fingers.

Immediately I can tell that this wasn't my best idea yet.

Waves of nausea chase away any hunger I felt for a late supper.

"Blanc, I-"

"So, I was thinking," she interrupts, "could we maybe snoop in my sister's room? Or go to the dining room and move all the meals two spots to the left. Or both. You have a pretty cool power, Lapse."

"Blanc."

"Not a good idea?" She turns from the mirror where she brushes her hair. "Are you ok? You look positively green."

"I should have told you. I pushed myself too hard in one-on-one today. I passed out."

She hurries to me, leaving the hairbrush floating by the closet door.

She tells me to put my head between my knees, but that just makes it harder for me to breathe deeply.

"Oh no," I say once. Then the scene goes dark.

I have the feeling a lot of time is passing, but it's just so nice to sleep. Someone gives me water and applesauce, but it's weird to swallow. I have to push it down into my throat with my tongue, as if gravity isn't helping at all. It's too much to think about. My head hurts too badly to do that kind of thinking.

I think someone's playing with my fingers. I give a light squeeze and giggle. What a flirtatious gesture that is! Who could possibly be playing with my fingers? The light when I try to open my eyes is too much. The calling of my name is too loud.

"Lemme sleep," I mutter.

"Please wake up!" I hear.

I'm fed more applesauce. All this water is making me have to go to the bathroom.

I open my eyes.

"Oh, hello there," I say to the blonde figure sitting by my bed. Her head lifts instantly.

"Lapse!" she shouts, "Snap your fingers!"

I do, and with a clatter Blanc's hairbrush falls. She stands and runs from the room. For the second time that day, Jean Grey is by my bedside.

"You just don't know how to follow directions, do you, Lapse?"

I don't feel like looking at her. "I apologize, Professor Grey."

She has me prop myself up on some pillows and hands me the glass of water that's on my bedside table. She goes to the corner where Blanc stands watching and they talk in hushed tones. I can hear them clearly in the small room.

"How long were you two in there?"

"More than a day," Blanc says quietly, "It was so hard to tell, but I ate three meals at least. I tried to snap her fingers for her, but it didn't work."

"No, it wouldn't. Her finger-snapping is really just a carrier for her power. A physical interpretation. It helps her determine its start and stop. Similar to Xavier putting his fingers to his temples when he needs to concentrate. He can do without it, but it's something you'll see him do. A lot of mutants do that sort of thing. Trust me, there was nothing you could have done better."

"I just-" Blanc starts to cry, "I was so worried, Professor Grey. If she had died It would have been my fault. Do you think I'd be stuck there forever?"

"I don't know. We haven't done any readings on her. She could be creating, as she's coined, a lapse in time, or it could be something more large scale, like a different physical plane. With either of those, yes you would have been stuck.

"But if it's more like a mental state or something transcendent, well." She looks towards me now. "There's no telling what might have happened."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're implying."

She smiles tightly. "Neither do I, Blanc."

I'm scolded harshly by Jean Grey, but when she leaves the look on Blanc's face makes it worth it.

"I thought you'd tattle," she says, sitting on my bed and eating the rest of the applesauce, "She gave you so many opportunities. 'What even gave you the idea?' 'Why would you drag poor Blanc into this debauchery.'"

I laugh. "I never once heard the word debauchery come out of her mouth."

Blanc giggles too. "Excuse me for a moment," she says, miming shame, "It seems my British is showing. The Americans around here can't handle the propriety."

It feels good to laugh.

I sleep solidly all night. I wake up around noon. I would sleep more, but I'm lifted from my dreaming by the scent of some kind of hot food.

Blanc sits cross-legged on the end of my bed with a bowl. I sit slowly up, wiping crusts from my eyes. The light stings. I put on a pair of sunglasses from the bedside table. Blanc hands me the bowl, a spoon, and a small package of crackers.

"It's chicken noodle," she says, "I thought it would be stereotypical to give to you, given your state."

"It's a lovely mundane," I say. I sprinkle the crackers on top and take a hesitant sip. I set it aside to cool.

"Your friends keep asking about you," she says.

"Who?" I ask, my mouth still full.

"Some guy. A blonde chick. A girl with wings."

"If I'm right, those are Coleton, Scarlett, and Douma, respectively."

"They seem nice enough."

I lower my sunglasses and raise an eyebrow. "Only nice enough?"

"Well, Scarlett and Douma are a frightening pair you must admit."

"They're really nice, Blanc!"

"I'm sure they are! I just have to meet them, right?"

"Yeah."

Then she looks at me suspiciously.

"That Coleton is exceptionally worried."

I try not to let my interest in this news play over my face. She smirks at me.

"He's cute. Don't get involved, Lapse."

I blush. "Too late."

She groans and hits me gently. "Lapse! You just met him!"

"Yes, and how am I supposed to ever date anyone if I'm not even supposed to meet the guy?"

She scoffs. "You're supposed to be friends with them first."

"I am! It's not like I've gone on a date with him. We aren't formally courting, or whatever you do in the olden country. He's just a friend. An acquaintance, really. A very, _very_ , cute acquaintance."

She hits me again, laughing.

I get up after I eat my soup. I have no issue standing, and I can tell Jean's relieved when she sees me in the living room.

"Was there any sort of sign," she asks me, "During tutoring. Did you know when it was getting to be too much?"

"I did feel a bit nauseous." I say.

"I'm sorry," she says, "You were trying to tell me something that last time, weren't you?"

"It's ok, Professor," I smirk, "Just try to listen next time."

She squints at me. "I had an entirely different reason to say that to you, Lapse. I was giving you very specific instructions-"

I throw my hands into the air. "I get it," I say, "But we need to know that you can be trusted in a life or death situation."

I'm only joking, repeating to her basically what she said to me, but I can tell, now, that she doesn't find it funny.

"Lapse, stop it," she says. Maybe I hit a nerve. I remember what Blanc said to me about the Phoenix, and realize that maybe Jean _isn't_ able to be trusted in a dangerous situation. Who knows what might set her off.

"I apologize," I say seriously, "I was only-"

"Joking, right?" she says with a shallow smile, "It's fine, Lapse. I understand. I actually came over here to tell you that we'll be administering a few tests tomorrow. Just some medical readings, if you don't mind."

I shrug. "Do I really have a choice?"

She smiles. "You catch on fast. I'll be escorting you downstairs at ten o'clock sharp."

Blanc makes this seem normal. "Yeah," she says, "I got a few tests when I came in the first time. Nothing extensive, you know? I think my parents sent in a few readings they had done, though, so maybe you'll have some more to go through. They do that sort of thing with the brainy ones."

I can't help but get a little nervous, though. I've never liked doctors offices or dentists, and my imagination is making it seem like that's what the tests will be like. Needles and drills and little electric stickers that hurt to peel off.

I'm not looking forward to it.

* * *

 _Thank you guys for reading! I'm enjoying this as much as you are. I'd just like to warn you, though. I may not be able to keep up with this as often as I like as college picks up. I'll try my hardest, but I don't know how things will go._

 _-flutterbye1888_


	11. Cold

!Warning – Language, bullying!

I go down the elevator for the second time. This time, though, I'm escorted by Jean Grey and, surprisingly, Wolverine. I stand on the opposite side of the elevator, occasionally looking in his direction. Every time he meet my gaze. In fact, I think he's staring at me.

I turn and look back at him and hold up my hand with a smirk. I snap my fingers. I move him to my side of the elevator and lift him off the ground a foot. Then I stand where he was and snap my fingers, letting the scene play without my influence.

He falls and the elevator chugs, dropping. I scream. How heavy is that man? Jean closes her eyes and holds up her hands and we slow to a stop.

"Lapse," She says in a terrifying voice, "You're trying my patience."

Wolverine carefully crosses the elevator and stands between Jean and me.

"Don't think about it, Jean," he says, "Just concentrate on getting us downstairs safely."

She doesn't say anything else. Her eyes stay shut tight for a few still minutes. Then the elevator starts to lower.

"I'm fine," she says.

"Jean?" Wolverine says quietly.

"I said I'm fine!"

I lean against the elevator wall and screw my eyes shut. When will I learn to filter some of my big ideas out?

Wolverine stays between Jean and I for the rest of the torturous, slow ride down.

He looks over his shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow. I'm tucked into the corner, trying not to make eye contact with either of them. Then the doors open. Jean exits and swiftly makes her way down the hall.

"You get to watch her for a while, Logan. Xavier's in cerebro."

I feel bad for her. I know it's completely my fault she's... whatever it is she's doing.

"I thought I was the only one who could get on her nerves like that," Wolverine says. I'm surprised to hear him speak.

"I was just being stupid," I say, "I've been doing that entirely too often lately."

He looks at me in a way I can't interpret.

"You have to be careful around Jean, kid." His voice is rough and low. "If I wasn't there to stand between you, she might not have been able to regain control."

I look straight ahead, trying not to think of the implications.

We reach the curious round door.

"He'll know we're out here." He tells me. I stand stiff, as if I'm being x-rayed at the airport. Then the door slides open, mechanic pieces sliding into each other until the doorway's empty. The Professor's chair sits at the end of an elevated aisle. The interior of the room is spherical, paneled with metal sheets and lit by bulbs along the sides of the platform.

Wolverine walks up to him, and I hesitantly follow. The Professor takes a metal apparatus from his head and places it on a computer console in front of him. He turns his chair to face us.

"Jean's fine, Logan," he says, answering a question that wasn't asked aloud.

We exit cerebro and go to a room lined with gleaming silver drawers and harboring a hospital-style bed.

Wolverine looks as if he's unsure whether he should stay or leave.

"You can go if you'd like, Logan." Xavier says. He stays, leaning against the wall.

"All right, Lapse," Xavier says. I lay down on the table, wishing there was some kind of pillow. "Try to relax."

I close my eyes and I can feel him moving in my thoughts. Memories come to mind that I haven't thought about in a long time. My dad teaching me to swim, paired with my memory of the hotel pool from my trip to the school. My ninth birthday party when the only person who came was Emily, who would become my best friend. The best friend who was there the day I discovered my powers. But, as the Professor reads me like a book, I feel like he's prying apart two pages that were stuck together. I think 'don't' just a second too late.

A memory I don't remember fills my head.

I was young. Thirteen, maybe. I was riding my bike down the street to the park. I had done this a hundred times before, but now I realize I hadn't for a long time. Something had almost compelled me not to. I'd look at my bike, consider the trip, then find something else to do.

Was this why that happened? I stopped at an oak tree, looking at the acorns crushed in the street. I didn't expect anyone would be around. School had just started up again. I, being homeschooled, should have been the only park visitor. A voice behind me startled me.

"What's up, lil' bitch?"

I hadn't ever heard language like that in real life. Only movies, and even then, not casually like this boy said it.

A group of teenagers stands behind me. A ragtag bunch with messy hair, heavy dark makeup, and saggy clothes. A girl with dreadlocks and dark red lipstick smiles freakishly while leaning against who I suspect was the speaker.

"I'm just... on my way home. From the park," I say. It's too quiet. They can sense my fear.

"Do we scare ya, baby?" The girl in front says, "You wanna run off? You weren't leavin' the park, baby. You was jus' comin' to it. We been there for hours. We'd a seen ya."

A dark girl in the back laughs. Her hair's pulled up so tight it stretches her skin. It's a sleek braid down over her shoulder and coiling at her feet. She cracks it like a whip.

I cringe at the sound.

I climb onto my bike, trying, as with wild animals, not to make any sudden moves.

"No you don't," says someone behind the tree.

My heart starts to pound. I turn and see a skinny boy wearing all gray standing there with a slimy grin. I swear he was standing in the group before.

"So, kid." the 'ring leader' said, "you familiar at all with mutants?"

Now, this was before mutants in my school made my parents even think it would be an issue for me. I didn't know much about them at all.

I shook my head.

They looked suddenly like they were collectively angry with me.

"Nothin'?" asked the girl with whip hair, "You don't even know nothin'?"

I shook my head. My fight or flight reaction was in full gear.

They started getting closer, shooting smiles to each other. Then energy between them began boiling into something dangerous.

Suddenly someone lunged. "Come 'ere li'l monkey bitch," the thin kid in gray snarled, grabbing my shoulders while some girl took my feet out from under me. I tried to scream, but someone shushed me and my mouth physically glued itself shut. They carried me towards the park, peals of tainted laughter rising from them in intervals.

The hands holding my feet released me to someone else, whose fingers were cold like ice. My skin started to burn from the cold, and as I struggled, I looked down to see a boy with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He snarled at me with blackened teeth and I screamed through my closed lips.

They took me up the playground equipment, a few of them climbing up the outside of the wooden structure. They hung me upside down from the top, my head at least a story from the ground. It was hard to breathe with my lips sealed. I thrashed, my feet stinging with the cold.

"Now," the leader said.

I looked towards the ground to see him standing there, a tilted smile on his face. His greasy hair looked thin from that angle, and his freakish girlfriend still dangled from his arm.

"Now," he repeated, "what to do with you?"

I struggled harder. A foot slipped free and I lurched towards the ground. The boy holding me swore and I felt hands pulling me up. They got a hold on my other foot again and the main boy sighed impatiently.

He twitched a hand and all my muscles tensed. I couldn't move without a tearing pain, and even the feeling of being dangled made me ache. My ears started to ring and I wouldn't have heard if he had said anything. Then he released me and my craned neck swung back and hit a beam.

"So," said the freakish girl. Her lipstick looked increasingly like blood in the steadily dimming light. "Don't know much about mutants, huh?" She tossed her head, making her dreadlocks pound against her skull. She reached up to touch my fingertips. I pulled back, but the boy tightened my muscles again.

She started to laugh. My muscles untense and I pull my arms away from her, shuddering at the touch of her cold skin. She laughed and laughed. After a few seconds the others laugh too.

"That's too funny," she says, "Little suburb baby's gonna be one of us someday."

The boy with cold hands dropped me. The fall winded me. I could still hear them laughing as I gasped for breath. There's the crack of a whip and I feel a sting on my back. As I tried to stand, I felt blow after cutting blow against my back.

The others fell silent. Now, only the girl hurting me was laughing. She pushed me onto my back with her foot. I could feel every cut in the sharp mulch. Looking up at the gathering group, I just closed my eyes. I couldn't. I was so scared. My shirt and the skin of my back were ripped to tattered shreds from the flogging I'd received.

I felt someone touching me, almost gently, trying to pick me up.

"Don't," I whispered, "Don't, please."

I find myself whispering this now. The memory fades away and I feel cold streaks where tears fell unbidden down my cheeks.

Xavier lets me catch my breath before speaking.

"Would you like to continue another day, Mallory?"

I shake my head. "No," I say, "No, we should do this now. But." I close my eyes, feeling the memory of that pain. "I think that one should stay buried. For now. Ok?"

The Professor nods. I lay back down and he sifts through my thoughts again.

"Now, lapse," he says, "I'd like you to freeze in a moment. Try to do it without indicating that you will, and try not to move. I'd like to see if there's any sort of change."

I close my eyes and try to remember the feeling of freezing without the snap. I breathe in deeply, then it freezes. I let the breath out, breathe in again and it loosens. Xavier stops reading me the instant I come back out of it. He asks me to do it again. I breathe in, I breathe out, I breathe in.

He starts to pull out a few medical instruments, instructing Wolverine to help him. Xavier attaches those awful stickers to my face and arms and I grimace as he has to pull one off and adjust it.

He cues me several times to lapse and come back, telling me once to do some jumping jacks inside the lapse and another time to create something inside one of the gleaming silver drawers. I make a tiny adamantium statue of Wolverine, which he pockets with a smirk.

Xavier looks very serious. He inspects the results of the tests with a growing intensity. Then he smiles and thanks me for my time. Wolverine takes me to the elevator and I go up alone.


	12. Normal

That night I have nightmares about my experience. Now that it's been resurfaced, my dreams unlock the rest. I was beaten. Stripped. I struggled home that night and passed out in my backyard. I wake up with a sudden realization.

My parents took me to have the memory hidden. They took me to a mutant in town, a psychiatrist. It was buried, the doctor paid, and a hatred for mutants developed in my parents. They kept it subtle. For me. They didn't want to seem vengeful. But their distrust of mutants went so much deeper than I thought. No wonder they never called me back.

I can't fall back asleep after these thoughts rush through, so I stand and try not to wake Blanc as I leave. The hallways seem longer in the dark, and I'm lost in thought at I follow them around the school. I stop when I turn a corner and see a winged figure standing near a window.

I stay still. I don't think she's noticed me.

"I can hear you," she whispers. In the quiet of the hallway it's loud. I approach her. Her wings are outstretched. Every feather is still and silent. Her eyes open and she turns from the window.

"Oh, hello Lapse." Douma says.

"Hi." I stand still beside her, watching the dark yard.

We stand quietly, thinking each of our own problems.

"How was your day?" she asks me. I can tell she wants to change the subject on her thoughts, so I tell her about the memory Xavier unearthed.

She doesn't respond, only knowingly nods her head. Moonlight breaks through the clouds, illuminating her waxen skin.

"Have you ever wished that this was normal?" she asks.

I contemplate.

"Like," she continues, "if the humans were just something in history books, a sort of theory. Extinct. And we were the normal ones. With wings. And lapses." Her pale lips lift at the edges, so little that it could barely be called a smile.

She suddenly pulls her wings in, the whipping snap surprising me. With intensity, she struggles to open the huge window then jumps out. I watch her dive to the ground below, then up until she's a speck against the clouds, the moonlight barely separating her from the gray night sky.

I watch her for a few minutes, then continue down the hall. The kitchen is dark except for a light above the oven. I open the fridge and find nothing I want to eat. When I close it, there's a boy standing there. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust and recognize him.

"Coleton!"

"Hey Lapse." His voice is rough.

"Can't sleep?" I ask him, sitting on the counter.

"Actually, I was asleep. My roommate is a loud snorer." He rubs his face. I can hardly see him in the dark.

"How have your classes been? You got in ok?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I guess. I think I'm in all the classes I need to be in. I wasn't really a part of the process."

I try to look closer at him. It's hard for me to talk with someone without being able to read their reactions. I can hardly see the outline of his facial features. I suggest we go to the library. There are lamps there. He declines.

"I'm just in here to get some earplugs." He pulls open a drawer and rummages inside. "I am hoping to get some more sleep tonight."

I nod. Of course. That's understandable. He finds some and leaves as quickly as he'd come. I wonder about him. I couldn't see him, but he sounded something more than tired.

I wander the halls until three AM. I go to bed and try to sleep again, but the memories haunt me. After an hour lying in bed, I finally fall asleep. Blanc wakes me up at the crack of dawn asking for an escape.

I squint in the low morning light. "Sure," I groan, sitting up and quickly ruffling my hair. It's getting long. I usually keep it below an inch.

"But, you are all right, yes?" She says, taking a close look at my face, "You didn't pass out yesterday or anything?"

I laugh. "No." I get out of my warm blanket cocoon. "I definitely did not pass out again yesterday."

"Well, I didn't know. With the tests and all."

After we get ready, we clasp hands and go into the hallway. It's still mostly empty. We're very early to rise today.

I snap my fingers. The lone occupant of the hallway is caught mid hair-flip. I start our adventure by braiding her hair and taking a rubber band from Blanc to tie it up. Blanc and I hide in a closet and I release her. The momentum of the hair flip continues, and her braid almost seems to pick up speed. It whips her in the eye. She swears, holding the braid and her eye. She swears again, cursing the school, and hurries down the hall. She looks suspiciously around her as she goes.

Blanc laughs, but I feel bad.  
"Now let's go mess with my sister!" she exclaims, exiting the closet and running down the hall before I have a chance to freeze us again. I freeze and run up to her, unfreezing and refreezing again as quickly as I can. It's too late. The girl I braided is looking at us with disdain. I unfreeze again and she walks away, shooting spiteful glances in our direction every few seconds.

"Bugger," Blanc says under her breath, "You forgot to freeze."

I laugh once the girl is out of earshot. "You forgot to let me!"

We reach her sister's door and I snap my fingers. We open the door and let ourselves in. Elizabeth has her face smashed into her pillow, deep asleep. Blanc starts moving stuff around, but I just stand and watch. I don't want to interrupt what seems like careful planning on Blanc's part.

She sets up various traps. Elizabeth's makeup she sets up as a sort of game of dominos, one thing knocking over another until the last falls off the dresser. She turns her sister's mirror around. She ties Elizabeth's hairbrush to the ceiling fan and her comforter to each side of the bed. She roughly takes her sister's hair into two pigtails and leaves them hovering above her face.

I turn and look at her sleeping roommate. To her, Blanc does nothing. I take her by the feet and leave her under the bed on her face. I put a pillow above her head so she doesn't hit it on the wooden bed frame upon waking.

I take her blankets and put them under there with her, tucking her in. I notice a stuffed rabbit off the left side of her bed, and I put this on the windowsill.

Giggling, Blanc and I run like little girls out of the room and lean against their door. I picture them both waking and snap my fingers. I hear a muffled shout and another, clearer one. There's yelling, but we can't hear it. We're too busy trying not to make noise ourselves. Despite my efforts, I bark out a laugh and immediately snap my fingers.

We run back to our room and I unfreeze again. We get ready, acting casual. Elizabeth never comes to our door.

"It seems we're off the hook," Blanc tells me at nine thirty. We smirk at each other and go to breakfast.

* * *

 _It looks like I'll be able to post weekly, but I am going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, so you can expect me to take a break from Lapse in November. I'll try to stock up on a few extra chapters so maybe I'll be able to post then, but I don't know what my plans look like. Love you all!_

 _-flutterbye_


	13. Dangerous

Friday morning Jean Grey knocks on my bedroom door. Blanc is already out, so I invite her in.

"I'm sorry," she says with a dazzling smile.

"It's ok, I get i- Well, I guess I can't say that I _get_ it, but I understand that I should be, like, careful, and, you know..."

She stares at me until I stop babbling.

"I'll try not to pester you in the future," I say finally, with a smile. I step into the lapse quickly to put a bouquet of flowers in a drawer. I give these to her.

She thanks me, but her mood is now quite serious.

"So, there's been quite a buzz behind the scenes about your test results," she says. For few seconds, I think she's talking about the geography test I took on Wednesday, but then I realize that she means the mental-type tests I got from Xavier.

"Why is that?" I invite her to sit on my bed with me. This she does. She seems unsure where to begin. The look on her face is similar to the one my parents had when they told me my grandmother had cancer. It makes my stomach cramp in anxiety.

"Every once in a while, there's a mutant who..." She seems to recollect. She starts over. "Your powers are..." She stops again. Then she looks at me.

"Be blunt," I say, "If it makes it easier."

"All right," she says, "When you pause, you don't just freeze time. Or even slip over to another universe. You know about the theory of multiple universes, right?"

I nod.

"Ok, good. That's what we expected it was, the other teachers and I. But, what the tests are suggesting is- Well, it's heavy."

"Heavy."

"Yes." She goes to sit on Blanc's bed so that she's facing me more directly. "When you Lapse, you're changing _this_ plane of existence. We all freeze, and time itself actually stops."

I nod. It's what I expected. I wasn't thinking too deeply into it, so I didn't consider the other universes thing.

"You're mutation is one of the destructive ones," she says, "One that, if left uncontrolled, could cause major... issues."

"How's that?" I ask her.

"Well, there's your creations, for one." She fiddles with something in her pocket. "Everything that you create takes it's resources from something else. Your diamond ring might have taken it's diamond from a diamond mine in Africa, or from a poor man's engagement ring, or from a combination of the two. The cat you took the other day, with the strange striped pattern? Well, I expect two cats were killed to be put together into your one."

I think about this and cover my gaping mouth with one hand. The hand with the ring. I take it off and give it to her.

"I don't want it anymore," I say. I feel a little sick.

She takes it. When she does, I see what she's been holding in her hand. It's a small black chain. She closes her fist around it and puts it and the ring in her pocket.

"But, I can go into the lapse without taking things, right?" I say, "And everything will be all right?"

She shakes her head.

"Think of time as a hundred-lane highway, and all cause and effect, action and reaction, as cars."

I picture this as best I can.

"When you pause, even for a moment, something still changes inside the Lapse. Your heartbeat and breath, your position slightly moves. Anything that you do when time is paused, let's say that paints a line on the road in a random direction. If the cars follow this line, as well as the ones that were all ready there, the road gets more and more dangerous. Now, as I said, this has one hundred lanes. It goes on for miles. But still, those lines make a difference, and if two unfortunate lines cross, then the cars could crash."

"Now, this is where my analogy stops making sense."

I laugh. "Ok, keep going."

"Well, these crashed cars draw new lines when they crash, then they disappear. The paradox eliminates itself, and the items involved as well. Then it tries to right itself by making sure no more cars make the same mistake. It creates an exit for the cars that might otherwise cave crashed."

"The exit, of course, just adds another line. Then there's the issue of the lines that are on the edge of the highway, just leading cars off. And lines on top of each other in parallel, causing a continuous paradox of sorts. All these things could be only small, but they could also be a big problem, like all involvements with time are."

I nod. Then, she looks at me with a hard look I should have responded to. I was too late, however, when she mentally held me in place. Out of her pocket she takes the black chain and fastens it around my neck.

"We're sorry," she says, standing abruptly and leaving.

When I can move, I go to the mirror and look at the chain. It's small and glistening black like a thin trail of liquid ink. Still, it feels like a shackle. I close my eyes and try not to think of what it meant. I didn't want to test my fears. Quietly, anxiously, I lift my hand and snap my fingers.

I open my eyes and Blanc walks in.


	14. Run

"I can't believe this!" she shouts. I'm still trying not to cry. "I can't _believe_ this!"

I tug at the collar, trying to remember why I ever thought this place was a good place to be.

"Why would they even have something like that? A _chain_ that turns off _powers_?" she yells. She's been pacing the room since I was able to explain why I looked so distressed.

I look in the mirror and spin the tight chain slowly, looking for some kind of clasp.

"Did they think you wouldn't tell anyone about this? My parents will know, you'd better believe me. This school will have hell to pay when they're done with them."

"Don't," I say, too quietly for her to hear me.

"What are they even planning with this? That you'll wear it forever? That you'll just act like a human with a necklace?"

"Don't" I say, louder. She stops pacing. I tell her what Jean said to me about time.

"But they don't know that, Lapse. They're just guessing. And it's not fair to you."

I shrug. There's a knock on the door. It's Blossom.

"Hey guys," she says, "What's up?"

I almost say 'not much' out of habit, then reach to my throat to feel the foreign adornment. I tell her exactly 'what's up.'

She doesn't react as extremely as Blanc did, but her sudden distrust of the institution where we all lived was clear in her eyes.

"Why didn't they ask you first?" she says.

"I think Jean knows exactly how well I react to instruction," I say, my voice full of pained sarcasm.

"Well, you know what we have to do, right?" Blanc spins again and continues pacing. "We have to go! We have to leave!"

"What?" I whisper.

"We have to go! You can stay at my house! We can get help from the Brotherhood to get the chain off!" She sits at her desk and starts planning.

"Blanc," I say, "We can't do that."

"Why not! I didn't trust these people at the start, but now I see that what little hope I had for this place was unfounded!"

"Blanc, please. Let me think." She pulls her suitcase out of the closet.

"Blossom, tell anyone who knows Lapse what's happened and tell them that if they want to come, we're leaving."

I stand up. "Blanc!"

She stops.

"I don't-" I have to swallow so I don't cry, "Let me think a little bit, OK?"

Blossom has already left to tell people, and Blanc quietly continues packing. She's trying to keep her anger toned down, but I can see that her movements are violent as she takes what she thinks she'll need.

After she finishes she sits for a long time, watching me I'm sure. I stand. Her eyes follow me. I walk to the closet and pull out my suitcase.

The next morning, five of us stand on the lawn.

Blanc is to my left, suitcase in hand. Blossom is to my right, holding nothing but a small tote bag. "Might as well," she told me, "It's not the first time I've gone without clean clothes, and I'm not a fan of carrying heavy things."

To her right stands Douma, wings tucked under a bulky coat. It is cold today. To Douma's right stands Samantha, looking like me as per usual.

"Who are we waiting for, Blossom?" I ask her, looking at the other girls and just waiting for someone to come out here and stop us.

"Scarlett and Coleton," she said, "I didn't know who else you knew."

"Are we ready to go?" I hear Coleton say behind me. I turn and there he and Scarlett stand.

"Yes," says Blanc, "My parents bought the airplane tickets and hired a bus."

We all look at her.

"They could afford that?" I ask. I think that was what everyone else was wondering too.

She's quiet. "They support your choice, Lapse," she says, "It turns out they never left the Brotherhood."

I feel a little bad for her, but her views towards humans were always foggy for me. Blossom, I can see, is really quite excited. Douma, too, looks like she's looking forward to our trip. Coleton, Scarlett, and Samantha, however, I can't read. They keep stealing glances at my neck, and they look sorry for me, but I don't like feeling like I'm forcing them. When we've all climbed in the bus, I snap my fingers. And I do it again. Then I remember, and I stop thinking about what they think and start thinking about how good it will feel to be able to enter the lapse and punch Jean's perfect teeth.

We get to the airport by lunch time and check into our gate. We sit and wait. Blanc insisted it was best to be early to the airport, especially because of Douma's wings, but we were surprised to find that the security was lenient about mutants.

"My daughter goes to that school down south a ways," one of the men says, "I've gotten accustomed to mutants comin' through here."

So now we sit. Our plane leaves at three. There's a Starbucks. After a while, Blanc asks us what we all want and goes to stand in line. I pick at the chain around my neck.

"It will be all right, you know," Scarlett says. She sits next to me. "The brotherhood will be able to help. It's probably just some ordinary metal with a microchip in it somewhere."

I smile at her in thanks. Blanc returns with the drinks. "Ok," she says, "A black coffee for Samantha, pumpkin spice lattes for Coleton, Scarlett, Lapse, and myself, an iced tea lemonade for Douma and a hot peach tea for Blossom."

We tuck ourselves into our chairs in various positions. Before most of us have finished, they call us in for boarding.

The plane is full and stuffy. Someone coughs a lot during the first hour, and I don't looking forward to catching what they have.

"So," I whisper to Blanc, who has the aisle seat next to me, "We're going to the brotherhood headquarters in England?"

"Yes," she says. I feel bad. I think she was trying to sleep. On my other side, Blossom gazes out the window with an intensity I recognize. This must be her first time on an airplane. I peer behind me through the seats. Douma looks sick, Coleton is sleeping, and Samantha looks out the window casually.

We tried to keep Samantha from everyone else's gaze, simply because of the nature of her mutation. She's wearing her hair down, as much in her face as doesn't look suspicious. Her clothes today are gender neutral, a considerate precaution for her to take.

I fall asleep after watching the glittering ocean outside the windows. When I wake, we're landing. It's dark and I ache from sleeping in a sitting position.

We exit the plane and follow Lapse's lead. Waiting outside the airport are three taxis that she says are ours. I nearly sleep again in the car, but I feed off Blossom's energy. She and Samantha are both excited.

"Girl," Samantha says, "I hadn't gone anywhere before the school. And even the school was real near where I lived more or less. This! This is London! England!"

Blossom shares this sentiment. They lean out the window on my left. I have the right. It's cold, but they keep the window open, breathing in the air like it's delicious. We drive outside the city and over a dark countryside. Then, we pull into a long, dark, driveway lined with huge trees.

The house is on a hill. It's well lit, a massive stone structure. I almost wonder if it's a school.

The taxis drop us off and drive away. Blanc opens the door and leads us in, suitcases trailing behind. There's a lovely smell wafting from somewhere, and I can see through an entrance way, a table set for nine.

"Mother?" Blanc calls. From the stairway to the left comes a shrill cry.

"Michael! Michael! They've arrived!" Down the stairs hurries a tall and very pregnant woman in a black-and-white striped maxi dress.

"Oh, Christine!" she says, pulling her daughter to her side for a hug.

Quickly behind her comes a man with blue button-down and crisp gray slacks. "So lovely to see you home again, dear," he says, giving her a hug as well. Then the two smile at us.

"So many young mutants!" Blanc's father enthuses, "We are so happy to have you!"

"And when we heard from Christine what those imbeciles did to her roommate," Blanc's mother nearly shudders, "We knew exactly who to call."

"But, please," Michael says, "We haven't gone over introductions yet. I'm Michael Bentley, and this is my wife Sophia."

We all shake their hands and introduce ourselves. They look at me with a concealed pity. Concealed deeper still is their rage.

"I simply cannot believe," Sophie says to me, looking at my chain.

"Don't be too angry, dear," Michael says, "We'll have it all fixed in no time. And anger isn't good for the baby."

"You're quite right," she smiles, "Let us get to know you more in depth over supper. We knew you'd be hungry, leaving at three and arriving at ten thirty. What an awful time for a flight! But, we were buying on one of the worst days, weren't we? And right before the flight date. That's never good. But the worst is behind you!"

She continues talking about this and that as she leads us into the dining room. I feel like I have to say something cultured, so I ask where the bathroom is so I may wash up. Too late, I realize I'm in another country and should have called it the watercloset or the loo. They understand anyway, and Blanc insists on giving us all a tour.

The house is gigantic. We'll all be sleeping upstairs, two to a room, except for Coleton. He sleeps alone, in a downstairs guest room. They have a heated pool in the backyard and a line of shiny quads.

"We can go out into the forest tomorrow!" Blanc says, leading us back downstairs. When I get back from the restroom, the meal has been served.


	15. Blanc is Home

There's what Blanc's parents call a 'light spread' on the table. Several large trays of cheese and crackers are on the table, some of which are partnered with small dishes of caviar. Bowls filled with a creamy potato soup are placed at each of our seats by a friendly-looking butler. The chef comes out with a big plate of shrimp and crab legs and goes around the table, letting us take as much as we want from the mounds of seafood.

I'm too busy eating to really pay attention to the conversation.

"I know you want to be called Blanc by your friends, but surely not by your family," Sophia says, "You know we have our pseudonyms as well, but not at home."

"What are your pseudonyms, Mr. and Mrs. Bentley?" Samantha asks.

"Well." Michael clears his throat and sets down his napkin. "I call myself Mike when I look like this," he says. Suddenly, his light hair lengthens and his form changes. "And Miranda when I look like this."

We all clap politely. We don't seem to know what otherwise to do.

"And I," Sophia says, smiling at Miranda, "Call myself mimic."

We all open our mouths and say the last three words in unison. We clap again, smiling now. Miranda changes back to Michael.

"Well, now that we've started, let's have a demonstration! We'll go around the table," he says. Blanc is to his left.

"Well, pretty much all of you know what I can do. It isn't exactly demonstrable," she says.

"What would that be?" Coleton asks.

"She erases memories," her father says, "and keeps them for herself."

"What about you, dear?" she asks Blossom, who's next. She holds her hands out and the vines wrap up her arms.

"Stab me with your fork," she tells Blanc.

"Ok..." Blanc says. She picks up her unused salad fork and jams it into Blossom's outstretched arm. The feathered green strands wrap around it, snakelike, and soon cover Blanc from head to foot.

"How fascinating!" Sophia exclaims with a clap.

"What about you, Coleton." Michael says, smiling at him.

"I might not want to do this inside," he says. The hosts laugh as though that's absurd.

"Our house is sturdier than you'd think, love," Sophia smiles.

His eyes turn red and the table starts to shudder. The noise makes my ears ache.

We all clap once he's finished and he smiles.

"And you Douma?" says Michael.

I notice that until now, she has left her coat on. She removes it and her wings spread up to touch the high ceiling. The hosts clap, grinning from ear to ear.

"Now we're to the other side of the table. And it seems I'm next!" Sophia says. We all look up and laugh. Samantha smiles.

"Is it that you like how I look, or does everyone see themselves?" Sophia asks. She fills her plate for the third time. Being pregnant must be tough.

"I'm like a mirror," Samantha says.

"Wonderful! But now, it seems we'll have to postpone our game for you, dear."

I smile. "I understand. I'll show you all later."

"But Scarlett," Michael says, "I'm sure can go next."

She smiles and stands, pushing her chair back out of the way. Then, almost like a wave down her body, her backbone changes shape. A tail sprouts out. Her legs and arms change direction. Sleek black fur grows from her head to her toes. Then, standing in the dining room, is a panther.

I start to laugh. It's bizarre to see a panther wearing clothing. She changes back, the transition looking almost painful.

We eat and talk for almost an hour.

"I'm sorry, dears," Sophia finally says, "because although it's still hardly late for you, it's nearly dawn for us. We must be getting to bed."

I look now at the clocks and see it's four fourty-seven AM. We all apologize.

"Please," Michael says, "It was our pleasure. We've had parties later before this one and I'm sure we'll have them again. It's really no trouble." He yawns. "No trouble at all. Show them to their rooms, Christine, dear."

Blanc does, and we all settle in. I'm sharing Blanc's room.

"Almost like we never left the school, eh?" I joke.

"Are you saying my room looks anything like the wood paneled closets they offer there?" she says in mock disdain.

I laugh. "Thank you, Blanc," I say, "for everything."

I settle into her trundle bed and fall asleep in my jeans.


	16. Guests

In the morning, I'm the only one still asleep. Maybe our resilience has something to do with our mutant powers. Maybe I'm not even a mutant with this on.

Blanc bursts in. "Lapse," she hisses, falling against the door as though to keep something out. My heart climbs up my throat.

"Holy cow, Blanc, you scared me!" I shout. She smooshes a finger agaisnt her lips. "Quiet!" she says.

"What?" I whisper.

"My parents," she says, "They invited guests."

"Guests?"

"Magneto."

I look at her, uncomprehending.

"Neato." I say, sarcastic. She doesn't laugh.

"No, Magneto. Like, magnets. He's the _head_ of the brotherhood."

My eyes widen.

"What's he doing here?" I whisper.

"Don't ask me! But everyone is talking to him and stuff and I was just trying not to flip out."

"But, why did your parents invite him?" I ask.

"They think he would be the best to help you out of that chain. Because he manipulates metal. But still, he's..."

I finish getting dressed.

"I don't want to know," I say, opening the door, "I'm sure he's nice."

"To _mutants_ yeah," she mutters, following me, "He's like... mutant Hitler, Lapse."

Downstairs I hear talking down the hall through the dining room. I find our crowd in a sort of lounge room. Douma is standing, wings outstretched. Facing away from me are three unfamiliar heads. When the others look towards Blanc and I, the three stand.

"You must be the poor soul my old friend decided to shackle," says the man in the middle. He wears a strange helmet of red metal. The other two remain seated, smirks on their faces. I glare at each of them individually until they stop staring at my neck with amusement.

Magneto holds up one hand and twitches his wrist. Nothing happens. His ego doesn't deflate. He merely turns from me.

"It's as I thought. He's created something that subdues powers. Another step towards what he considers 'peace.' Another step towards humanity." He paces as he makes his speech, the others in the room watching wide-eyed. He stops behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, child," he says, "we'll get to the bottom of this."

The feel of his voice against my ear makes me shudder.

Blanc takes us all out to see their expansive property. We each ride a pair to a quad from their gleaming lineup and follow Blanc's lead into the forest. It's nice, but I'm glad I'm riding with Blossom so I don't have to concentrate on driving.

Although I didn't think the technology in my collar would be easy to overcome, I didn't expect the outcome I got. I had hoped, somehow, that the Brotherhood would have a quick solution for me.

I pick at the chain and don't notice as we pull up to a pond in the wide hilly countryside.

"We," Blanc says, "Are going to do a sort of impromptu ice swim."

"There's no ice there, Blanc," I say, "It's just a lame cold swim."

"It's not lame!" She says, "It will be fun! I'll go first."

She steps off her quad and kicks her shoes into the brown grass. She steps back twice, then runs and jumps off the riverbank with a splash. All of us who didn't expect her to do it gasp a little bit. It must be cold. She surfaces and glares at us until, one by one, we climb off the quads and take our shoes off.

I decide to jump first, sort of an all at once decision and movement. The water is cold, but not as cold as I thought it would be. It's more like a chilled drink than an 'icy swim.' Everone joins us, Douma the most spectacularly. She dives into the center of the pond from about fifty feet up. Scarlett, too, uses her mutation, a sleek panther swimming laps around us.

"That doesn't count, Scarlett," Blanc insists, "if you have fur you're not experiencing the true cold."

After a lot of teasing and pleading from the rest of us, the panther rolls its eyes (one of the strangest things I've seen in a while) and turns back into Scarlett.

She immediately starts shivering, just like the rest of us.

Climbing out of the water now proves colder than jumping in. Eventually, though, the concept of warm clothing becomes too tantalizing. We mount the 4x4s and follow Blanc's lead back to the house.


	17. Decisions

Magneto tells us the next day that he's called in a favor from a colleague. A woman shows up after lunch, her face gaunt and her skin pale. Magneto introduces her as 'panda,' and I try to picture why the name's appropriate. Even when she lifts her hair and demonstrates her power, pulling a large metal spike from the base of her skull, I can't see why she would name herself after the bear.

The metal spike lifts from the woman's hands with a flick of Magneto's wrist and darts to my throat. I flinch and become tense, feeling the metal collar lift with the dagger's touch. With a sharp tug, the metal falls from my neck and my friends all quietly cheer. Magneto looks proud of himself and gives the dagger back to Panda.

She swallows it with a morbid smile.

My hand touches my neck where the necklace had been. My thoughts had barely turned from it for a minute since it had been put there days ago. A grin spreads across my face and I meet Magneto's eyes. I snap my fingers and no one moves. Then, I see Blanc on the other side of the room, looking at me in surprise. I had forgotten to take her with me.

I consider quickly unfreezing to let her in, but it would ruin the effect. I turn from them and explore the house, looking for things to adjust. I don't want to mess up their house. They've been so kind. Instead I go right back into the living room and start moving people around. I take most of my friends over to the front by the door and move Magneto, Panda, and the two others with them to the windows. Magneto, I turn to face the center of the room. The others look out the windows.

I leave Blanc's parents alone. I don't want to move a pregnant woman. It seems wrong.

Instead I stand back where I was and imagine the start. Magneto will reach into his pockets and throw confetti at me.

I snap my fingers and it happens. Magneto looks down at his own hands and then at me with a grin. He turns to the blue woman who's hardly left his side since I've seen them and says I'm impressive. I glance at Blanc's parents, who smile with a little jealousy.

I look back at Magneto, who inspects me.

"What else can you do?"

I list a few things I'd learned, still not quite comfortable with the way I'm being looked at by the old man and his friends. Panda practically glares. He thanks me and the adults go into the dining room and talk.

I turn to my friends, who all grin. I don't see Blanc, though, and immediately feel a little bit of dread. I push past my friends, feeling Douma's feathers on my face, and hurry into the hallway. I don't see her there, or in her room. As I leave, though, I notice her hair under the door of her closet. I throw open the door.

Her head rolls a little on the wooden floor and I notice a bruise on her forehead. She's out cold, hands on her chest. I fall to my knees by her limp frame and pull her out of the closet to put her head on my lap.

"Blanc," I shout, "Blanc! Wake up!" I check her pulse and it's weak. The bruise on her forehead is fresh and trickles blood.

"Help!" I call, "Someone call an ambulance."

I hear scores of footsteps in the hallways and my vision fills with worried faces.

"She was choking again and it's my fault," I say to them, sobbing.

"She's choking?" "Do the Heimlich."

"No, no," I interrupt them all, "She was choking." I throw my hands to my throat to demonstrate, "it's a game, she stopped 'cause I said I'd help, but-" I cry again. I hear someone pressing phone buttons, and no time seems to pass until the sirens sound in the distance.

We helplessly watch as the ambulance drives away, Blanc's parents joining her unconscious form inside.

Magneto stands behind me. He places a hand on my shoulder.

"Humanity will drive us to ruin," he says quietly, as though he somehow knows what caused her to start her awful addiction.

I balk. Little does he know, the brotherhood was what drove her to ruin. I pull away from his hand and walk away. He scares me; the subtle ownership he seems to think he has of me.

It's just little things, how he doesn't move out of the way when I walk past him, the way he puts a hand on my shoulder. They're power moves, and he's an expert at them.

They're not going to work on me. I pull on a jacket because it's started to rain and I step out into the yard.

I hear the door open and shut several times behind me, but I want to be alone. I snap my fingers and follow the path into the woods.

I find the forest strange and lonely without the regular sounds, like birds or wind, or even the sound of sticks and leaves crunching under my feet. The sounds of my footsteps are cut short, flat.

Once I'm out of sight, I unfreeze and sit on a mossy log. The breeze is chilly, and raindrops fall from the canopy.

This was my fault. It was. Blanc and I made promises to each other, and I broke mine. For the Brotherhood.

I was such a bad friend. Am such a bad friend. I hear my friends approaching on the path, talking quietly. I huff and snap my fingers again, standing and trudging farther into the woods.

I see the path we took to get to the lake and turn left instead. The trees are thicker here, more of them are evergreens and the path is dwarfed. I should turn back, because I don't know where I'm going, but I don't. Instead I unpause and keep walking, enjoying the sound of the breeze and the rain. The color of the clouds gets darker as I walk, and I realize the time must be later than I thought.

Time isn't a problem for me now. I don't want to think, so I walk.

When the clouds are a dark blue rather than grey, I freeze again and turn around. I meet my friends at the fork in the road, most of them sitting in various positions on the ground. Douma is far above us, motionless in the sky. I walk around their frozen forms and hope they know that they should run now, before I mess up for them, too.

I unfreeze and they all notice me at once a few seconds later.

"Lapse!" they say. Douma hears them and lands in a tree. She climbs down as I watch, the rest of them expressing quiet support.

Douma, though, looks at me in that way that she does and she sees that I blame myself. She holds out a hand, a simple gesture, and I take it as we walk. I think she or Scarlett would know best how this feels.

Back at the house, we crowd in Blanc's room, making deep conversation. Talk turns to the X-men and the Brotherhood, and we all come to a serious conclusion.

"Guys," Blossom says quietly, "We... aren't all going back to the school, are we?"

We all look at each other.

"No," I say, "I don't think we are."

"But we can't be enemies," Scarlett says quickly, "Even if some of us are Brotherhood."

"Does that mean you're X-men, Scarlett?" Coleton asks.

She nods, slowly at first, then more sure. "Yes," she says, "Yes I am."

"We should figure it out," says Samantha, "So we're sure. Sure who's who I mean."

I'm not sure where I'll go. Thinking of making a decision makes my stomach hurt. It's similar to when I first discovered my powers. "I don't feel like I can go anywhere," I say, "I don't trust either of them now."

"I go where Lapse goes," says Coleton. He catches my eye and smiles at me.

"I'm brotherhood," Blossom says quietly. Though I feel like I should have seen it coming, I'm surprised.

"I'm brotherhood," says Douma, looking apologetically at Scarlett.

"I'm Xmen," says Samantha, "I didn't mind the school, even though what they did to Lapse was an awful mistake."

"So that's all of us, then?" says Blossom, "Except for Lapse and Coleton. And Blanc."

"Yeah," I say, still thinking about the decision I have to make. Maybe I won't go with either of them. I bet it's like most wars; there are never just two sides.


	18. Hospital

That night, supper is strange. The hosts called their favorite caterer from the hospital and had them bring us trays of food. We all realize at once that we'll be entertaining the head of the Brotherhood alone.

"So, Lapse," he says as soon as we've all sat down, "How do you feel now that you're liberated?"

I don't like his wording or his tone.

"It was nice for some peace and quiet after my friend went to the hospital," I say. It's the only thing I could think of that might shut them all up.

The blue woman smirks. Or maybe it's a smile.

I look at her now. "What's your name?" I ask her.

She looks up from her food and seems surprised that I'm looking directly into her eyes. One side of her mouth twitches up.

"Raven," she says. Magneto seems surprised. Or maybe shocked is more apt.

"Raven," he muses, "I haven't heard that name in a while."

She glowers at no one in particular. "Call me Mystique."

"And what can you do?" I continue, purposefully not looking at the man next to her.

She tilts her head and her feather-like scales lift up, similar to Blossom's hands. In a wave up her body, they turn, and underneath lies me.

"Ooh," Scarlett says.

"You're Samantha and Blossom combined," I say.

"No," says Samantha, "I see you too."

The scales flip up again and she's blue once more.

"Amazing," I say, serving myself more food.

I see her smile out of the corner of my eye.

The rest of the dinner is filled with painful small talk, and lasts much too long. I excuse myself as soon as I'm finished. In the hall after I've brushed my teeth, I'm stopped by Mystique. She pushes me against the wall with one hand and holds out something with the other. A little afraid, I reach to take whatever it is she offers. She hands me a piece of paper with a smirk and slinks away. I turn on the bathroom light and read. There are two names and phone numbers: Raven, and Eric. I re-fold the paper and enter Blanc's empty bedroom.

I tuck the paper into my jeans pocket, change in the dark, and fall asleep looking at her empty bed.

In the morning, Magneto is the only one of the group still at the house. Douma asked him why, and he said something about business that needed tending to. It seemed to ominous for any of us to press.

Outside, there's a line of taxis. The butler tells us that Blanc's parent's called and said we were all going to the hospital to visit her. I joined my friends in the cars, but I didn't plan on joining them in the hospital room unless Blanc wanted me to.

Once we arrive at the large stone hospital and find the room we're supposed to, I stand outside. Blanc's parents soon exit to make room for the throng and look me over inquisitively.

"Aren't you going in, Lapse?" asks Michael. I smile sadly.

"Only if Blanc says I should," I say, "She and I made a promise. I broke that promise, and that's why she's in here."

The two share a parent-look. "You know it's not your fault, dear," says Sophie, "Blanc did this to herself. For reasons, I don't think I'll ever understand."

My forehead creases and I look up at them. They don't know the real reason, do they? I open my mouth and close it. I feel a spark of rage on Blanc's behalf. Then, I press a hand to my forehead and sigh.

"I guess I'll go in," I say. The two silently raise fists of victory, egging me on.

I push past Scarlett and Coleton so I can stand behind Douma and look at Blanc. There's a bandage on her head and an IV in her wrist. She's smiling, looking at the group of us.

"Lapse?" she says. I step forwards. "Good. I didn't know if you would come. Can I have a moment with Lapse please?"

Oh no. Here's where I get my talking to.

Her smile's just as bright while everyone's leaving, which seems like a bad sign, to me. I can't read how angry she is underneath the charisma.

Once everyone leaves, the smile only dims, and doesn't fall.

"Lapse, I think I've made a mistake," she says. I immediately fear that she's talking about our friendship, but the look on her face doesn't match that.

I have to say something, right? "No, I-"

She interrupts me by raising an IV-leashed hand. "Let me speak, all right?"

I nod. My eyes want to fill with tears, but I won't let them.

"I've realized that I expected too much of you," she says quickly, "I can't just take my problems and have you be their nanny. I think our deal is off."

Our deal? "You mean-"

"You can Lapse without me, guilt free, and if you wanted, I'd erase your memory."

"But, Blanc," I say. I pause because I expected her to interrupt me. "Blanc, calling off the deal doesn't change that I broke it when it was still in effect. For the Brotherhood. And for that I'm so, so sorry."

Her gaze turns a little condescending. "You're blaming yourself for this?" she says in disbelief.

"I- I was honestly more surprised that you _weren't_ blaming me for this."

"You-" she starts to laugh, "You can't _do_ that, Lapse."

"Do what?" I say, a little defensive.

"Do those things," her laughing escalates and she shakes her head.

"Blanc," I say, a little worried, "Blanc, stop it."

I look to the side at her heart monitor. The numbers rise slowly.

"Blanc, cut it out."

Her face is red now, with laughter, but her eyes are filled with fear. I jump from where I was leaning on the bed and run to the hallway. "Nurse!" I scream. Everyone in the hallway jumps to their feet from various sitting positions. I slip on the floor and fall in the middle of them all. I feel a pain in my head, but I don't have time.

"Something's wrong, something's wrong," I say. I climb to my feet and run back in to see Blanc doubled over, her skin ashy and head rolling. There's vomit on the blankets.

I take her by the shoulders and hold her up. Her head flops back. The constant buzz of the heart monitor is nothing like it sounds in movies.

"Blanc!" I shout. Our friends jump into action. Douma pushes me away and starts performing CPR. Blossom opens her mouth and clears away the vomit inside with her fingers.

"Come on," chants Douma with each round of compressions. Suddenly we're all pushed against the wall by a team of nurses and doctors. They wheel in a crash cart and quickly cut away Blanc's shirt. I see some of us avert our eyes. I can't stop looking at Blanc's lifeless face.

"Clear!" calls the doctor before electrocuting Blanc. I hear, as though through a tunnel, Blanc's parents sobbing.

I can feel my own heartbeat in my fingertips as I stand silently. The people around me seem like they're on fast-forward. I snap my fingers.

The doctor is looking at his watch, his mouth open slightly to call time of death. I look from Blanc to him in anger.

"You can't do that yet!" I shout at the frozen man. Still he stands there.

I punch him in the chest, and his body slides backwards on the floor. It didn't help. I'm still angry. I ball my fists, looking back at Blanc.

"You can't," I say again to the doctor, "You can't!" With this last shout, I feel the world unfreeze. The doctor is gone. His watch cracks on the floor.

I take a step back and the room is silent.

"Doctor... Carlyle?" one of the nurses stutters.

My hands make their way to my face, where I feel wetness. I take a few more steps back. Suddenly, everyone starts to move. The nurses run from the room. Michael and Sophie crowd their dead daughter. Coleton and Blossom run to me and grab my hands.

"Come on," says Coleton, "Lapse, we have to go."

They drag me into the hallway, where I pull my hands from theirs and run. I hear other footsteps behind me. I spot chutes at the end of the hall, one on the left labeled, "Biohazard – soiled linens," and the other labeled, "Unsoiled linens."

I lift the hatch on the one on the right and jump in. Once I land in a large bin of sheets and blankets, I'm immediately run into by three others. I'm pushed deeper into the bin.

"Lapse," I hear Coleton say. He pulls me out.

"Someone's going to get in trouble for how soiled these linens are now," he says, flatly.

I look down and see blood and I'm worried.

"We could get sick from that, couldn't we?" I say.

"Why?" asks Blossom, "Are you sick?"

It's then that I look down at my hands and see blood.

"It's from when you called for a nurse," says Coleton softly, "You didn't notice, did you?"

I shake my head slightly, reaching up to press my fingers against the slightly throbbing wound.

"We can fix you up later," says Blossom, "We have to go."

Only Douma, Coleton, and Blossom followed me out the room and down the hall. The others must still be in Blanc's room. It's OK, I think to myself as we climb out of the bin, they were the ones who wanted to go back to the school anyway. I'm sure Blanc's parents will help them get back.

"I guess..." I say, "I guess we should-"

I can't think of what we should do.

"We should get out of here to start," says Douma softly. We make our way through the sterile, yet dimly lit basement, and find a series of garage doors. Coleton slides one open and we exit into a parking lot. We walk past a police car that pulls up and I feel the need to hide my face. It's stupid. They don't know what I look like. My friends and I walk past them and onto the city sidewalk.


End file.
